


overcommunicate

by ACertainKindofMagic, catline



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Chipotle, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACertainKindofMagic/pseuds/ACertainKindofMagic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/catline/pseuds/catline
Summary: “Listen,” Shiro continues, “I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told Lance. There are no coincidences like this. I know you, Keith. I know that you can feel your drift compatibility with him.”
  Keith rubs his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he sighs, glancing at the door. Lance’s room is practically next door, but Lance has avoided him like the plague since the fight at the Kwoon. Whenever they’re in the same room, Lance finds some excuse to leave it. “He’s obviously already made up his mind.”
  “If I know anything about you, Keith," Shiro says, bringing him back to the present, "it’s that you never back down from a challenge."
  Keith snorts. “Are you sure you’ve met Lance McClain?”
in which keith and lance pilot a giant robot together, pidge drifts with a kaiju, hunk is unsurprisingly the sensible one, shiro and allura are the jaeger parents, and coran is honestly just along for the ride.





	1. Neck & Neck

**Author's Note:**

> a few notes before you start reading:
> 
> \- lance is latino and keith is korean/japanese for reasons. also hunk is hawaiian also for reasons  
> \- pidge is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns  
> \- we've taken a few liberties with the pacific rim canon, but nothing astoundingly different  
> \- there is some past matt/shiro if you squint really, really hard  
> \- we'll be updating weekly unless one of us dies. we've written the majority of the fic, so the updates should be timely  
> \- this will be seven chapters
> 
> this thing has been our baby since the end of july and we've been working really hard to make this awesome. we always appreciate kudos, comments, and constructive criticism! pls enjoy and follow us on twitter

_“Overcommunicate. It's better to tell someone something they already know than to not tell them something they needed to hear.”_

_―_ _Alex Irvine, Pacific Rim: The Official Movie Novelization _

 

Prologue 

Keith wants the record to show this wasn’t his idea. He wants it written in stone and tattooed on Lance’s stupid face, because this? This was not his idea. He would never ever take on a plan this stupid.

“This was not my idea,” Keith says out loud, panting. The gears around him shift loudly as he moves his legs. He glances at Lance and sees he’s getting just as much of a workout, beads of sweat rolling down his cheek. He knows Lance hears him thinking it, but he wants Allura to hear him say it.

“Really, man? This is a solid plan,” says Lance. “At least a B plus if we’re going by a grading scale. Granted, there have been better plans, but this is a pretty good plan.” “You’re an idiot.” Behind them, he hears the roar of not one but two kaiju. The jaeger turns as they look at their assailants—all angry and spitting kaiju blue everywhere, the ground becoming stained underneath the bright blood.

“If you have any better plans, speak now or forever hold your peace!” Lance yells.

Keith doesn’t speak, but he does get Lance to stop the jaeger in its tracks. The kaiju are catching up to them. The jaeger turns fully and Keith leans forward in his pod. He scrolls quickly on his monitor and finds the button they need.

“ _Sword deployment_.”

* * *

 

Lance vividly remembers seeing reports of kaiju attacks all over the coasts as a child. He remembers the straight-faced reporters, solemn as they read the body count, detailing the damage done to the cities, the amount of lives ruined.

His mother had clutched the rosary that had been stuffed into the back of her sock drawer, mostly forgotten except for moments like this, so tightly in her hand it left indents in her palm.

She pressed the cross to her lips and closed her eyes in a silent prayer and plea as the anchor spoke. “Sources say that the kaiju are emerging from a rift in the Pacific Ocean. All nearby areas are in possible danger. The UN urges people to move inland…”

Three years later, the kaiju they called Sendak attacked Los Angeles. Lance was seventeen when it happened, just a year shy of adulthood—still just a boy, but desperate to become a man. He’d dreamed of being a pilot, taking to the skies and finally being free. He was going to apply to the Air Force.

It was only by a miracle that his family hadn’t been in LA when the kaiju came. They were in Mexico City for a family reunion, safely inland, away from the attack. When they returned, they found their home in shambles. Every house in his neighborhood was in ruins, nothing left but a pile of rubble.

He walked through it and finds the area that once was his mother’s room. He picked up her rosary, the cross glinting in the sunlight, the chain broken. He gripped the rosary the same way his mother did three years ago, pressing the cross to his lips.

But he didn’t pray.

He made a promise.

* * *

 

“Hunk, ol’ buddy ol’ pal, can you believe it?” Lance says. He waves the certificate in front of his friend’s face. “I’m an official Ranger candidate!”

He shakes it more violently before Hunk smacks his hand away. “I know, I was at the ceremony too!” Hunk says, holding up his own certificate. It’s one for the engineering track instead of the piloting one.

“Oh, man, I hope we all get placed in the same shatterdome,” Lance sighs, admiring his certificate. He gives it an exaggerated kiss in the center.

Pidge snorts and rolls their eyes. “With our combined luck, we’ll all end up in the Icebox, freezing our butts off,” they say. The three California natives simultaneously shudder at the very thought of Alaska in the middle of winter.

“Oh, don’t say that, Pidge,” Lance groans. “Now you’ve jinxed us. I wanted to go to the LA shatterdome! I heard they have a brand deal with Chipotle.”

At the mention of Chipotle, Hunk rubs his belly and licks his lips. “Are you guys hungry? I heard that some of the other recruits are going out to dinner to celebrate. Wanna go?”

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk had all been in the same graduating class at the Jaeger Academy, all pursuing different courses. Hunk and Lance had grown up together, friends since a fateful game of Freeze Tag in the second grade where Lance had totally biffed it on the school yard’s asphalt and Hunk had been the only kid who with the balls to touch a blood-soaked Lance and take him all the way to the school nurse.

Pidge had entered the picture when Lance needed help with the more technical and academic aspects of the homework the Academy provided. All three of them were fast friends, dubbed the Three Amigos by Lance, even though no one else called them that.

Hunk had chosen to go into the engineering track, ready to get his hands dirty repairing and creating jaegers for the PPDC. With his history of motion sickness, he was damn sure he never wanted to pilot one of the monstrosities—but _hell_ did he know the inside of those jaegers like the back of his hand.

Pidge, on the other hand, was more interested in the kaijus than the jaegers, even though they worked well with computers and programming. They had taken courses in kaiju biology and the PONS system analysis. Pidge was a double threat and the top member of both of their programs.

And Lance? Well, he might not be piloting planes like he had originally planned, but damn if he isn’t piloting something even better.

From across the room, Lance spies Keith Kogane. Motherfucking Keith Kogane. Number one in the class. Martial arts protégé. Secret super genius. 80s hairdo weirdo. And, unfortunately for Lance, also a major hottie.

Lance and Keith have competed since the very beginning. They both signed up at the same time. Literally the same time. Lance had walked into the Jaeger Academy office only to find the mullet-wearing freak turning in his paperwork to the woman at the desk before him. He hadn’t even known his name then, but Lance immediately hated him. Throughout their training, Keith had always been one step ahead of Lance.

The thing that pissed Lance off about Keith the most was that it never looked like he even broke a sweat with any of their training, class work, tests, or anything else in between. Lance had pulled thousands of all-nighters, trained at the ass-crack of dawn, done everything he could to get to where he was. And Keith? Breezed through all their courses like it was child’s play.

“Really, Lance?” Pidge says, suddenly noticing what Lance is glaring at. They sound unsurprised and just a little bit done with the entire thing. Lance burns a hole into the back of Keith’s head, watching him put on his black gloves and his helmet (for his beautiful red motorcycle that of course Keith fucking has).

“Bro, you need to let it go,” Hunk says, rolling his eyes. “You’re both Ranger candidates now. It doesn’t even matter.”

He wraps his big arms around Lance’s neck and turns him towards the door to leave. “You probably won’t even both placed in the same shatterdome.”

* * *

 

They are placed in the same shatterdome.

It’s the LA shatterdome, just like Lance wanted. The LA shatterdome, nickname: the Castle. Sponsor: Chipotle Mexican Grill. Newly graduated Jaeger Academy candidates: Lance McClain, Hunk Garrett, Pidge Gunderson, and _fucking Keith Kogane_. Lance struggles to keep his spirits high. Yea, his self-proclaimed rival is assigned to the same shatterdome as him, but at least he has Hunk and Pidge. Lance is grateful for that, at least.

The night before he leaves for the Castle, Lance’s mother tells him, “Don’t go getting into trouble over in the shatterdome, you hear me?” Dinner had just ended, and everyone had dispersed to relax after eating. Somehow, his _mamá_ had gathered the entire family for one last big meal before Lance officially started his career as the Best Ranger the PPDC Had Ever Seen. Now, lounging back in the dining room chair and rubbing his food baby gently, he snorts. 

" _Sí, mamá_ ,” he tells her. “I’ll be fine!”

“Yeah, Lance, don’t break any of the jaegers!” his little brother says, poking his head into the dining room. Lance turns to peer at his sibling, raising an eyebrow. His little sister pops her head in after him.

“I heard the jaegers cost a bajillion dollars to make,” she says matter-of-factly, her two braids swaying. “You break it, you buy it!”

Lance playfully fake-growls and tries to lunge at them from his chair to bring them into a noogie. His misses spectacularly and they shriek and giggle, running back into the living room and out of his reach.

“ _Mijo_ , are you sure about this?” his _abuela_ asks from her place across from him at the table. Her worry lines run deeper in her face then he’s ever seen them before.

His face softens as he gives her the largest smile he can muster. He leans across the table and kisses her on the forehead carefully, taking her wrinkled hand in his. He squeezes it. “ _Abuela_ , I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Getting through the first few rounds of the Jaeger Academy had been hell, but everything Lance had achieved culminated in this. Lance knew they were building a brand-spanking-new jaeger: a Mark 5 model called Voltron. They wanted the best of the best to pilot Voltron. the fastest jaeger in the fleet. On top of that, it has an amazing amount of firepower. All he knows is that he wants in. Lance is going to be in the one of the world’s best shatterdomes with his best friends. What could go wrong?

* * *

“Pay attention, McClain,” Keith Kogane tells him. His voice sounds disdainful, condescending, and Lance feels like he’s boiling.

Keith. Keith fucking Kogane could go fucking wrong, that’s what. The dude is everywhere. For one of the largest shatterdomes in the world, Lance sees Keith _everywhere_ in the Castle. Everywhere. The irony of the situation isn’t lost on Lance. Nor is it lost on Pidge. Or Hunk. Every time Lance runs into Keith in the Castle, every time he launches angrily into another Keith Rant, they laugh and laugh and laugh. (“Guys, come _on_! It’s not funny, this is serious!”)

Lance knows he’ll be angrily yelling at them about this, too, after training lets out. For now, Lance sputters and says, “You pay attention, Mr. Business in the Front Party in the Back.” He turns stubbornly back to face Allura. She stands in front of the class, holding one of the fighting sticks and looking incredible and lethal, as per usual.

Keith furrows his eyebrows in confusion and tilts his head to the side. “What?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused.

Lance turns back to stare at him, bug-eyed, and is about to say something totally witty in response until Allura clears her throat and pounds the stick on the ground. Their attention snaps back to the front. She eyes them warily.

“As I was saying,” she says, eyeing them pointedly. Lance shies away from her hard gaze, tucking his hands into his pockets. Her bright white hair is up in a loose bun and she’s wearing clothes more casual than what he’s used to seeing her in. She almost always wears a Marshal’s uniform, the paragon of perfection every single time he sees her. She comes from PPDC royalty; her father was one of the founders of the organization. It only makes sense that his daughter would do well under his wing. She’s a legend.

“We’re going to be doing some more testing for drift compatibility,” she says. “We’ll be keeping track of brain patterns while you fight so we can see what your compatibility looks like. Remember that this isn’t so much a fight, but more like a dance. Now let’s see some footwork.” She makes eye contact with Lance and throws him the fighting stick. “McClain and Kogane. You first.”

Lance groans dramatically but toes off his shoes anyway. He tosses his jacket to the side, leaving him in just a grey wife-beater. Keith sheds his jacket as well (the jacket that Lance hates because it’s just like Keith, isn’t it, to wear a cool distinguishable motorcycle jacket everywhere and then ride off on a motorcycle everywhere and be just himself about it and Lance just hates that freaking guy). Keith unlaces his boots and sets them right by the mat. He stretches, his black v-neck (that Lance also hates) riding up and showing a small sliver of skin. Lance hates him.

Lance takes one of the fighting sticks when it’s offered to him and readies it, glaring daggers at the man in front of him. Keith’s expression doesn’t change as he, too, takes a stick—his expression remains stoic, although Lance swears he sees a twitch of a smirk at the edge of Keith’s mouth. How dare he smirk at Lance, how dare he be so cocky over a fight that Lance is so obviously going to win and—

But then he hears Allura say, “Begin!” and all his thoughts are swept away as Keith lunges towards him, lightning quick, his stick stopping to the side of Lance’s jugular.

“1-0,” Keith says, just loud enough for Lance to hear.

“Not fair,” Lance growls. “I wasn’t ready!”

“You know that’s not how this works, right—”

 _And there’s my chance_ , Lance thinks.

Keith breaks off abruptly as Lance brings his stick up, parries Keith’s down and out, and carries his stick around to tap lightly on the smaller man’s side. Or maybe not so lightly. Whatever, right? Keith’s eyes narrow and Lance feels a smirk roll lazily onto his face.

“1-1,” Lance says, removing his stick from Keith’s side and sliding once more into a lowered stance. “Whatcha think of that, Kogane?”

“I think you talk too much,” Keith says, eyes narrowing.

And then they’re both moving.

Keith moves forward, quick and ferocious, and lands a hit to the top of Lance’s head. 2-1.

Lance immediately parries, steps out of the way, brings his stick and his body in a whirl to hit Keith behind the knee. He falls, grunting, and Lance lets out a victorious shout. 2-2.

They continue this way, back and forth and back and forth, for what seems like ages, neither of them landing another hit. Lance breathes heavily, eyes wide and alert as he and Keith circle each other.

And then Keith lunges low, kicking Lance’s legs out from under him, and then Lance is the one falling, landing with an oof on his backside and opening his eyes to find Keith over him, very nearly straddling him, with one end of his stick pressed flush against his cheek. One of Lance’s legs is up and hooked over Keith’s bent knee and how did that happen? How did they get in this position so quickly, so naturally?

“3-2,” Keith breathes. There is sweat dripping down his forehead, and he is flushed. Lance knows he must look the same. Keith looks as if he is about to move from the position, to call the fight to a close, but Lance will be damned if he lets that happen. Lance reaches up, one hand curling around the back of Keith’s neck and the other with his stick coming to rest against his bicep. He pushes his entire body up and over, rolling them until it is Keith who is pressed underneath him, Lance who has one of Keith’s legs up and thrown over his shoulder, Lance who has his stick pushed underneath Keith’s jaw.

“3-3,” Lance says, breathing heavily. He smirks and squeezes Keith’s arm, feels the muscles straining beneath the skin—

“That’s enough!”

Lance blinks, startled. The rest of the world comes rushing back into focus, and he looks up to see Allura gazing at them from the edge of the Kwoon. She’s looking at them with an expression on her face that Lance isn’t sure he likes. The other recruits are whooping and hollering. Had they been doing that the entire time? How long had he and Keith been at it?

Hastily, he jumps off of Keith. Keith stays where he is for a moment, a look of shock across his flushed face, before he stands as well.

“Montgomery! Dos Santos!” Allura says, looking past them to the other recruits. “You’re next!”

Keith glances at Lance before moving off to the side of the Kwoon, face unreadable. Lance frowns, rubbing his arms and passing his fighting stick to Montgomery before leaving the middle of the Kwoon as well. What the hell had just happened? They couldn’t be… no, there was no way.

There’s no way Lance is drift compatible with Keith fucking Kogane.

* * *

Lance sits on one of the catwalks in the hangar. His legs are between the railings and they hang over the edge, kicking absently into the air. He stares at the jaeger in front of him, an almost-finished Mark 5 model. All it needs is two new Rangers to pilot her. Lance sighs and shakes his head. His fight with Keith in the Kwoon Combat Room flashes through his mind.

It was like magic, the way they settled into a rhythm together. He remembers the tingle he felt at the ease of fighting with Keith. It was fast, explosive, almost erot—

Lance stops himself right there, upset with himself again. He and Keith can’t be drift compatible. It’s impossible, right? He barely knows the guy. You can’t instantly know someone, can you? You can’t already be inside their head without some kind of real life connection. Lance throws himself on the floor, looking at the ceiling instead of the jaeger.

“Feeling okay there, Lance?”

He hears Shiro before he sees him, the steady fall of his boots on the floor. Shiro leans over and enters Lance’s vision, smiling in greeting. Lance scrambles to his feet—or attempts to, he nearly falls fist—and salutes Shiro.

“M-marshal, sir, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here—”

Shiro waves a hand at Lance, letting him know that there’s no need for the formalities.

“I was just coming back to check on you,” he says kindly. He looks past Lance and motions his head in reference to the jaeger.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” he says. He approaches the railings and places both hands on it, leaning in to look at Voltron. “It’s partially constructed out of the skeleton from my old jaeger, so you know her bones are good.” Shiro’s smile is full of nostalgia. He turns back towards Lance. “I heard there was a bit of a commotion in the Kwoon today. You and Keith.”

Lance scowls at Keith’s name and casts his angry gaze at the ground.

“It’s nothing,” Lance grinds out. “It can’t be. It was just… a fluke, sir.” His balls his hands into fists. Shiro snorts softly and rolls his eyes.

“Let me tell you something, Lance,” Shiro says, putting his hand on Lance’s shoulder, forcing Lance to meet his eyes. “There’s no such thing at flukes when it comes to drift compatibility like that. You know right here”—Shiro pokes his finger into Lance’s chest, right over his heart—“that it’s real. No questions asked.”

“I—I don’t know, sir. I mean, have you _seen_ the way Keith and I go at each other?” Shiro laughs and nods.

“Yes, I have. You two argue like an old married couple.” Lance’s face heats up and he sputters, but Shiro just shakes his head and pats him on the shoulder. “Just think about what I said, okay, Lance?” Shiro asks, smiling. “Sometimes, you just have to have a little faith in people.”

As Shiro walks away, Lance frowns and rubs at his neck. Faith, huh. His mother used to tell him something similar—sometimes you have to trust that things will work out if you work hard enough. The advice had never let him down before. He isn’t sure if he wants it to apply to this situation, though.

Faith in Keith Kogane? It isn’t something Lance is sure he can even have.

* * *

Shiro’s words stay with Lance long after the encounter. They crawl into his bed with him and keep him awake that night. He tosses and turns so much that at one point, Hunk throws a shoe at him from across the room (with frightening accuracy for a man half-asleep) and tells him to shut up. When Lance finally gets up to leave around 3am, knowing he won’t be able to sleep unless he talks it out with someone, he hears Hunk mutter “thank fucking Jesus” after he closes the door behind him.

“I think you’re overreacting,” says Pidge, who is the only person up at this godawful hour. They’re in the labs of the Castle where Pidge has their eyes glued to a code screen, the reflection of which is mirrored off their glasses. Pidge has never looked more in their element here, surrounded by empty coffee mugs and computer screens. One of the mugs says “World’s Greatest Engineer,” a gift from Lance for their last birthday.

“He’s really not that bad,” Pidge continues, sparing a withering glance at Lance when he makes a face.

“You’ve spoken to him before?” Lance asks, affronted.

Pidge shrugs. “It’s a small shatterdome, Lance.”

“No, it’s not! It’s a very large shatterdome! One of the largest! It’s called the Castle, for fuck’s sake!” Lance yells, getting up in irritation just to pace back and forth across the room. “How could you, Pidge! You know that we’re mortal enemies!” Lance drapes himself dramatically over the computer screen, blocking Pidge’s view of the code. Pidge huffs and leans back in their chair.

“You’re the only person who thinks that! Keith has no issue with you!”

“That’s probably his evil plan,” says Lance. “To lure everyone into a false sense of security, only to kill me when I least expect it. And take my jaeger away from me.” Lance’s pout becomes more dramatic.

Pidge’s face becomes more annoyed. “Nobody can pilot a jaeger by themselves, but okay, Lance,” Pidge mutters, shaking their head and sighing. “Listen, Lance, it’s not a fluke or anything else you’re telling yourself. Being drift compatible is science. There’s no coincidence about it. We tracked your brainwaves during the fight. You were more in sync with each other than anyone else in that room by miles. Miles, Lance.”

Pidge rolls in their chair to another computer screen at different desk and pulls up the PONS system, showing Lance the brainwave patterns. They’re almost identical. Lance’s stomach turns. At the look on Lance’s face, Pidge’s expression turns more sympathetic. They place their hand on Lance’s.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear,” they say. “But it’s the truth. Just… try drifting with him. Keep an open mind. I think you’ll be surprised. Okay?”

Lance gets off Pidge’s original computer screen solemnly, uncharacteristically quiet.

He nods. “It’s only one drift, right? What’s the worst that can happen?”

* * *

Keith hears gentle knocking on his bedroom door. He carefully places a bookmark in his novel and sets it down on the nightstand next to him before getting up and unlocking the door. He isn’t entirely surprised when he finds Shiro on the other side.

“I can’t believe you’re still awake,” Shiro says. He sounds as if he’s disappointed in Keith’s sleeping habits.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Like you have any room to talk,” he says. “Don’t you have important higher command meetings in the morning to attend to? I know that Allura has been complaining all day about them.”

Shiro shrugs and sits in the desk chair near Keith’s bed. He runs his fingers through his hair and heaves a loud sigh, his demeanor changing from tensed to relaxed. “What can I say? I’m an important guy,” he says, laughing at his own attempt at a joke.

Keith smiles. Shiro is probably one of the least conceited men Keith has ever met in his life.

“So,” Shiro says, looking over at Keith contemplatively. He purses his lips. “Lance McClain.” Keith scowls and Shiro laughs.

“What?” Keith asks, his eyebrows furrowing together. “That was basically the same reaction Lance had when I talked to him about you,” Shiro says teasingly. Keith’s scowl only deepens. When he doesn’t say anything in response, Shiro sighs.

“Listen,” Shiro continues, “I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told Lance. There are no coincidences like this. I know you, Keith. I know that you can feel your drift compatibility with him.”

Keith rubs his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. “It doesn’t matter,” he sighs, glancing at the door. Lance’s room is practically next door, but Lance has avoided him like the plague since the fight at the Kwoon. Whenever they’re in the same room, Lance finds some excuse to leave it. “He’s obviously already made up his mind.”

Shiro looks at him with sad, sympathetic eyes. He remembers a similar but sadder look, the one he gave Keith in the aftermath of the San Francisco attack all those years ago. Keith had never felt so helpless, so small. He had been covered in dust and ashes. Shiro had a large gash across his nose, the beginnings of a scar that would never heal.

“If I know anything about you, Keith," Shiro says, bringing him back to the present, "it’s that you never back down from a challenge."

Keith snorts. “Are you sure you’ve met Lance McClain?”


	2. Neural Handshake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ready for this, Kogane?”
> 
> Lance smiles widely. He rolls his shoulders as best he can in his drivesuit. Confidence oozes out of him and Keith can’t help but roll his eyes.
> 
> “Just try not to chase the rabbit,” Keith replies as a technician attaches the spinal clamp to his own suit.
> 
> Lance splutters. “Yea, well, why don’t you try not to chase the rabbit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before we get this chapter started, we'd like to thank the following people:
> 
> 1\. gabry  
> 2\. gabry  
> 3\. gabry  
> 4\. gabry  
> and last but not least  
> 5\. gabry
> 
> she has been an absolutely amazing beta/editor. we mostly just throw up klance content and she was able to stitch it into something coherent. we love her and appreciate everything she has done. we love twitter (and gabry) so pls follow her on twitter [@g_crivee](https://twitter.com/g_crivee)

“They’re going to kill each other.”

Shiro looks up from his tablet to glance at Allura as she enters the LOCCENT room. He’s been looking through data gathered on the kaiju, some new things they’ve found about them, but he places the tablet down as soon as he sees Allura’s strained expression. He doesn’t have to ask to know who Allura is talking about.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Shiro says, placing the tablet carefully on the table.

She gives him a withering look and he puts his hands up in surrender. “I think we just have to give them a chance,” he says. “They have to drift. When they do, then they’ll see. Finding that person… It’s like nothing else. You know how it is. Knowing a person inside and out, it’s the most intimate and terrifying feeling but… it’s completely worth it.” His mind drifts back to memories of a small man with a large smile and an even larger heart.

When Allura places her hand gently on his prosthetic arm—the real one long gone, lost all those years ago—he jolts back to the present.

“I know, Shiro,” she says quietly. She sounds saddened, pained. “I didn’t mean to bring those memories up. It’s just… I’m afraid.”

“Of who?” Shiro asks, refocusing on the woman in front of him. “Lance? He’s a good pilot, a little loud—”

“Not Lance,” she says, shaking her head. “Keith.”

Shiro stiffens at the soft admission, but nods all the same. “I understand your concern,” he says. “But I think he’s ready. He knows what being in the drift means.”

“He’s so angry, Shiro, you can’t bring all that with you into the—”

Shiro cuts her off. “I know.” He takes her hand carefully. Oh, does he know. “But I believe in him.” He meets her eyes and holds her stare. “Trust me. Please. He can do this. I know he can.”

Sometimes Shiro simply sees that kid from back then in San Francisco, barely a teenager, angry and frustrated with the world. He remembers the holes he’d find the walls of his bedroom and the hours Keith would spend in self-inflicted solitude. For the first two weeks after his parents died, Keith hardly spoke a word except for “yes” and “no”.

In recent years, Keith has cooled off, but he keeps people at a distance. Whether or not it’s on purpose, Shiro doesn’t know. But he still sees that kid with tears running down his face when he found out that his parents were inside one of the buildings that that first Kaiju destroyed. He wants to make a connection.

Allura presses her lips together into a thin line and nods, conceding the point to Shiro before speaking again.

“Shiro, I just heard back from the UN,” she says, voice suddenly hard. Her face darkens. “They’re… not convinced that this program works anymore.”

Shiro’s mouth pops open in surprise. “What? Why?”

Allura’s gaze quickly falls to his prosthetic arm then snaps back up. His eyes narrow suspiciously. “More and more jaegers and their pilots are falling to kaiju,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. He can tell she’s upset but trying to keep her composure, and failing more and more with every passing minute. “They want to move on from this. They want a different solution.”

Shiro frowns. “There _is_ no other solution. This is the best chance we have at defeating them!”

“I know, Shiro, I told them that.” She sighs, rubbing at her temples with her fingers. “They’re going to have a UN meeting to discuss other possible solutions. I can’t stop them, no matter how loud I yell. And I can yell rather loud.” She pauses for a moment, smiling bitterly.

“Voltron is the best chance we have at regaining the UN’s faith,” Allura continues. “I need pilots, Shiro. Good ones. Ones that won’t kill each other on sight.”

“Give them a chance,” Shiro tells her. He brings his hand up and places it on her shoulder. “Let them try drifting. Then we can explore other options.” Allura looks ready to argue but instead she sighs and rolls her eyes.

“They get one chance, Shiro,” she tells him. “Just one.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Simulation failed.”_

“Fucking _fuck_ ,” Lance exclaims, taking his helmet off and tossing it on the floor. He whips around to look at Keith, eyes blazing with anger. “This is your goddamn fault, Kogane!”

Keith takes off his own helmet, scowling. He unstraps himself from the command platform and the arm controllers with an angry push of a button. As soon as the locks disengage, he turns in a fury towards Lance.

“ _My_ fault?” Keith repeats furiously, opening the hatch of the simulation room. He hears Lance follow him out, not far behind. “I’m not the one too afraid to go toe-to-toe with a kaiju.”

Lance’s expression goes from frustrated to enraged. He takes a step forward, getting right in Keith’s face. “At least I’m not the one with a fucking _death wish_!”

That’s when Keith’s vision goes red and before he knows it, his fist is connecting with Lance’s jaw.

Lance hits the nearby wall with a heavy thud, his skull smacking the metal with an awful _thunk_ sound. Keith opens his mouth to apologize but Lance is already tackling him to the ground, his eyes full of anger.

They both wrestle to be on top, Keith landing punches all along Lance’s sides.

“Keith! Lance! What the hell are you doing?”

They have matching bloody noses when they turn to look at Coran. Sometime during their fight, Keith got on top of Lance. The chief LOCCENT officer grabs him by his suit collar and lifts him off of Lance with strength he didn’t know Coran had.

Lance wipes the blood from his nose and stands up slowly, panting and glaring at Keith. Keith matches his glare. When he licks his lips, he can taste the blood that trickled down his face.

“You boys need to stop being so selfish,” Coran scolds them. Lance casts his glance away, clearly upset about being lectured. “You can’t not listen to your copilot. It’s about teamwork, listening to one another, learning to cooperate. Just like in real life, you can’t do this alone.”

Lance and Keith lock eyes, but still remain silent.

“Get your acts together,” Coran says in quiet anger. “Your drift is less than a day away. This entire shatterdome is counting on you.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Lance asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Coran is silent for a moment. “The UN is considering ending the Jaeger Program,” he admits.

“ _What?_ ” Lance shouts.

“They can’t do that, we’re the only defense against those monsters!”

“I know,” Coran says. “But we’re losing more and more jaegers and pilots every day. They’re losing faith in us. Voltron is going to prove to the UN that we’re still relevant, still a strong organization.” He points accusingly at both of them. “So if you don’t pull this off, it’s not just your careers at stake. It’s _everyone’s_. It’s the _entire world’s_ safety. And it’s resting in the palms of your hands.”

Keith swallows and looks at Lance. They meet eyes and exchange a meaningful look. They may hate each other, but this is serious. They had to get their acts together.

 

* * *

 

“You’re insane!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Do you hear yourself? You sound crazy!”

Allura clears her throat over the bickering. Shiro suppresses a smile while he watches them. Hunk and Pidge look over and both salute her. “At ease,” she says.

“What’s the commotion?”

“Well, Marshal, you see—”

“Ma’am, I can explain—”

Pidge and Hunk attempt to speak over each other, getting increasingly louder the longer they try to speak. Allura holds up a patient hand. Shiro chuckles behind her. “One at a time, please,” she says. “Pidge?”

Pidge sticks their tongue out at Hunk. Hunk just crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

“Well, ma’am, I’ve been studying up on the kaiju biology a bit because there’s so much more that we don’t know about these creatures,” Pidge says. “Their genetic makeup is unlike anything we’ve seen on Earth or any other planet we’ve discovered.” They click around on their computer, showing Shiro and Allura the strands of DNA on the screen.

“Now, I was able to salvage a piece of the brain from the last kaiju we battled, nicknamed Prorok,” Pidge continues, standing up and rushing over to the corner of the room. Hunk groans and starts to shake his head.

“Stop them,” Hunk whispers to Shiro and Allura. The two marshals looks at each other in confusion, each lifting an eyebrow.

“It’s a great piece, almost completely intact even if it _is_ just a piece,” they say, wheeling in a giant yellow tank. The organ is inside, and Hunk grimaces at the sight as Pidge continues. “I have this theory about the kaiju. I don’t think they’re mindless killing machines at all. They’re not hunting and eating humans, that’s not what they’re after either. They’re destroying major cities with huge populations and I don’t think that’s an accident.”

“And here comes the complete and total insanity,” Hunk mumbles.

“I think that to fully understand these creatures we need to get inside their heads,” Pidge says.

“Which is why I think that Ishoulddriftwithakaiju.”

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ” Shiro says.

“Absolutely not,” Allura says immediately. “It is far too dangerous, I cannot allow you to do that.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Allura says.

“Shiro, what do you think?”

Shiro shakes his head. “I agree with Allura,” he says. “We don’t know the risks. The neural load would be too much. You could die. Or worse.”

“I’m willing to risk it! I think it’s worth it, in the name of science and discovery—”

“Pidge,” Shiro interrupts. He puts a solid hand on Pidge’s shoulder and looks them in the eye. “Your brother would agree with me. I can’t let you do this.”

Pidge scowls and pushes Shiro’s hand of their shoulder. “Just because you were his copilot doesn’t mean you know everything about him,” Pidge spits out.

Shiro sighs. “Maybe, maybe not,” he says. “But I—I knew him well enough. And I know he wouldn’t want you to risk your life for this.”

“Whatever,” Pidge says. They push past Shiro and Allura, leaving the labs altogether.

“Told you they were crazy,” Hunk says with a shrug.

Shiro frowns, glancing at Allura. Her face is tight, nearly expressionless, but he knows what she’s thinking. They need to keep an eye on Pidge. Pidge and Matt shared that trait—they didn’t stop until they got their way.

 

* * *

 

“You ready for this, Kogane?”

Lance smiles widely. He rolls his shoulders as best he can in his drivesuit. Confidence oozes out of him and Keith can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Just try not to chase the rabbit,” Keith replies as a technician attaches the spinal clamp to his own suit.

Lance splutters. “Yea, well, why don’t _you_ try not to chase the rabbit!” he gets out. Keith thinks the technicians must be trying hard not to roll their eyes, too.

“Nice one, McClain,” Keith says as the technicians leave the conn-pod.

“Shut the fuck up, Kogane!”

“Boys!” The two wince as a loud British voice filters through their intercoms.

“Sorry, Coran,” Lance mumbles. He sounds almost sheepish.

“Don’t apologize to me,” Coran tells them. “Apologize to Allura! She has a lot riding on you two, you know!”

“We know, Coran,” Keith cuts in. “We’ve got this.”

“I hope you do,” a female voice says. Keith winces. Allura. Her voice sounds grim through the com. “Coran, engage drop.”

“Engaging drop!”

Keith takes a deep breath as the conn-pod moves and rumbles, descending to the jaeger below them. This is it. The moment they’ve trained for, the moment they’ve been _waiting_ for. Whatever his relationship with Lance is, he knows this much: they both wanted this. He didn’t have to be inside Lance’s head to know that neither of them wanted to fuck this up. This is it. _This is it_.

When he feels the conn-pod land on the jaeger, locking in, Keith reaches up and presses the intercom button. “This is Voltron, ma’am, ready and aligned.”

“All right, Rangers,” Allura says. “Prepare for neural handshake.”

Keith glances over at Lance as the countdown begins and finds Lance already looking back. He wonders what it will be like when they finally drift. Wonders if Lance is just as curious. Lance isn’t one to hide his emotions—he wears them loudly, for everyone in the world to see. Keith, on the other hand, is more cautious. More careful.

“Ready to finally see into my brain, Kogane?” Lance says, smiling when he catches Keith staring.

“I literally cannot wait,” Keith says, deadpan. But even he can’t help the ghost of a smile that flickers over his face.

“ _Pilot-to-pilot connection protocol sequence_ ,” an AI voice intones. “ _Neural handshake initiated_.”

And then they’re in it. The drift. A haze of memories some stronger than other, flit through his head. Keith tries to relax, let them flow over him. He takes in Lance—Lance’s family, the time his _abuela_ scolded him for stealing the last of the cookies she’d made from his younger brother, the birth of his sister, the time he’d fell off his bike, scabbed his knee, and his mom was there to comfort him—

Keith tries to keep it together. But there’s Lance, Lance everywhere, Lance is happy and he has such a beautiful family and he misses them, and Keith remembers his own family. He remembers San Francisco. He remembers the terror, the horror, and then—

All is frozen.

 

* * *

 

Someone is crying. Lance frowns. There’s dust everywhere, settling in around him like a fog, and people are rushing about him, running, screaming. He can hear a small sound of someone crying over the din of screams and the distant, guttural growl of a kaiju in the distance. Lance’s heart races.

He knows where he is. He’s only been here once, as a child, for the _quinceanera_ of a distant cousin when he was seven. But he’s seen the footage on TV. The pictures all over the Internet and the newspapers. He’s in San Francisco.

There are car alarms ringing and people screaming and rubble falling and the sound of metal against metal and worst of all the deafening sound of a kaiju roaring—

“Keith!” he shouts, trying to push past the people in the memory. He looks around wildly, trying to find the source of the crying. He can feel his partner’s pain, his fear. It’s overwhelming—entirely, completely, terrifyingly overwhelming. “Keith, where are you? This isn’t real! Keith!”

Lance follows the crying, dodging people and falling pieces of building until he finds him. Keith Kogane, fourteen years old, sitting against a destroyed building with his arms around his knees, struggling to breathe through his tears. Lance swallows thickly, fighting through the wave of emotions. Fighting through to Keith.

He’s never considered this version of Keith. Vulnerable, tears streaking down his face, in pain, and so fucking young. He’s covered in dirt and there’s a gash in his hairline, the blood caked onto his hair and his forehead. He knows without having to ask that Keith’s parents are dead, their bodies buried underneath the tons of rubble in the building that Keith is hiding in the shadow of.

The ground shakes underneath their feet, the approach of the kaiju imminent.

“Keith!” he shouts again. He runs over and kneels next to him. “Keith, you need to listen to me. Listen to my voice. Snap out of it!” But the boy in front of him is frozen, panicked, eyes shut tight.

In the distance, the kaiju roars. Keith’s eyes snap open. His hands lift up in defense. He screams.

 

* * *

 

In the real world, outside of the memory, outside of the drift, Lance becomes aware of the right arm of the jaeger moving.

“ _Plasma cannon powering up_ ,” the AI voice intones.

“Take them offline!” Allura is saying, voice hard and strong.

“I’m trying, the system’s not responding!” Coran shouts. “His connection is too strong!”

“Take them off manually,” another voice says, much deeper. Shiro.

“Working on it!” Coran replies.

Lance feels his stomach jump, his heart in his throat. He forces himself to breathe. Get Keith out of there. Get him out. He closes his eyes and lets himself back into the memory.

 

* * *

 

“Everyone! Out! Move it, now!” Coran screams over the sounds of the plasma cannon firing up. Everyone in the LOCCENT evacuates, leaving himself, Allura, and Shiro.

Allura’s hands fly over the controls and Shiro shouts in the microphone, even though he knows it’s probably in vain. Keith is too far gone, too lost in the recesses of his mind, and the only person who could possibly reach him is Lance.

“We need to manually override the weapons system!” he yells. He launches himself over the console to the cabling, praying to any god out there that this will work.

xxx

He hears the sounds of running footsteps getting closer and, at the same time Keith does, Lance looks up and sees Shiro. Lance blinks in surprise, speechless. Keith knows Shiro? Shiro’s hair is longer than it is now and his cybernetic arm is nowhere to be seen.

“Keith, Keith, c’mon, we gotta go, _we gotta go!_ ” Shiro shouts. The shaking of the ground is getting more violent as the kaiju gets closer and closer. Shiro grabs Keith by the arms and pulls him up. Lance follows them as they run through the alleyways of San Francisco.

They stop suddenly and Lance doesn’t have to wonder why. The kaiju’s foot lands several yards in front of them. Shiro ducks into a darkened doorway. He shouts at Keith to come with him, but Keith is frozen. He’s never seen this look on Keith’s face before.

“Come on, Keith!” Lance growls. He reaches out and firmly grips the back of Keith’s neck, forcing him to look at his face. But Keith’s eyes are unseeing, staring past to the kaiju in front of him. “Keith, listen to me. You’re not here anymore! You’re not _helpless_ anymore! It’s different now—listen to me! _We can take them down._ You just need to listen to my voice and come back!” He clenches his hand, baring his teeth. Finally Keith’s eyes, bloodshot and raw, focus on him. “Come on, you asshole! You’re better than this!”

Lance isn’t sure what does it, in the end, if it was what he said or his sudden rush of anger or something else inside of Keith that finally brings him out of the memory. All he knows is that suddenly they’re back, and he hears Shiro shouting at Coran to stop.

“Look at their brainwaves,” Shiro says. “They’re aligning again. They’re coming back.”

Lance gets the jaeger hand to drop with a little difficulty, the plasma cannon cooling off. He’s sweating profusely. It’s like he can feel the entire shatterdome breathe a thankful sigh of relief.

He tears his helmet off as he unlocks from the spinal clamp. “Keith?” he asks. He ignores the way his voice wavers, his worry filtering through.

He thinks he sees Keith shaking as he removes his own helmet.

“I’m fine,” he says, not looking at him. “I’m fine.”

 

* * *

 

Lance finds himself in front of Keith’s door a few hours later. His mind is still wandering back into the memories of being in the drift, of Keith’s past and his pain. He knows the pain is just a scar to Keith now, but it feels like a fresh wound to Lance. He knocks softly, hesitantly on Keith’s door, not even sure if Keith wants to see him or not.

“Lance,” Keith says, surprised when he opens the door to find Lance. Lance looks Keith up and down. He’s wearing a ratty old PPDC t-shirt and sweatpants that have obviously seen some years. “It’s midnight, McClain, why do you think I’m dressed like this?”

“I didn’t say anything, _Kogane_ ,” Lance said. Keith rolls his eyes. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to get a midnight snack with me. Hunk has a deal with the kitchen and so by extension I have a deal with the kitchen.” Lance waggles the keys in his hand. Keith huffs and disappears into his bedroom. “Hey, man, what the heck, I thought that we bonded today! Keith? Buddy?”

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith says smoothly. When he comes back into view, he’s wearing shoes and a sweater.

Lance grins and Keith just glares back, but there’s no heat to it. Lance is really starting to like this thing between them. It’s an understanding now, a mutual connection they share. It’s almost… intimate. Lance finds that he doesn’t mind it, this newfound closeness. He doesn’t have to explain his actions or his thoughts anymore because Keith _knows_ now. Maybe not everything yet, but in time they’ll be so in sync with each other that the kaiju won’t know what hit them.

Lance has never been that close with anyone other than his family. Even the people he’s dated haven’t been able to get under Lance’s skin like this, to really know him underneath all the flash and words and humor and flirting. Lance has always worn his heart on his sleeve, a completely open book. Keith couldn’t be more of his opposite. Quiet, mostly stoic, closed-off. Like a really complicated puzzle that you had to do with the cardboard facing out and not the picture.

But one by one, Lance knows that those pieces are turning over.

Keith follows Lance to the kitchen. There are barely any people on duty except for a few security personnel, engineers fixing jaegers, and the people monitoring Breach activity, so the kitchen is mostly unguarded.

“Would you hurry up?” Keith asks, leaning against the wall next to Lance, casual as you please, waiting on him to get the lock to catch.

“Why? Afraid of getting caught?”

Keith snorts. “No. I’m hungry and they have leftover macaroni.”

“We’re catered by Chipotle and you want shitty Kraft macaroni and cheese?”

“It’s really good!”

The latch finally catches and the door swings open. “You know what they say, age before beauty.” Lance isn’t surprised by the punch he gets in the arm as Keith walks past him into the kitchen. The punch doesn’t hurt. Lance is also pleased by this.

They gather as much food as they can in their arms (Keith does grab the leftover macaroni and cheese, the disgusting bastard) and make their way up the catwalks until they’re in the highest ones.

“Wow,” Keith whispers as they come up to Voltron, their jaeger. They’re doing minor repairs on it, making sure everything is working perfectly.

“I know,” Lance says. He sits down on the catwalk, dropping the tupperwares full of chicken and rice and whatever else he could find all around him. He looks around and pats himself as he looks for something. “Dammit, I forgot a—”

Before he even finishes his sentence, Keith silently hands him a fork. He raises an eyebrow at him. Lance pouts but takes the fork anyway with a mumbled thanks.

“I would ask how you already know me so well, but you rooted around inside my brain today,” Lance mutters, opening a container and picking out pieces of chicken with his fork.

“I would say you rooted around in my brain more than I rooted around in yours,” Keith says casually, sitting beside Lance on the catwalk. “But I guess I did see some stuff.”

“Ooh, anything racy?” Lance waggles his eyebrows at Keith. Keith smiles openly at Lance and shakes his head. Lance finds that he likes Keith’s smile.

He’s finding that he likes a lot of things about Keith tonight.

“No, nothing like that,” Keith says. “Mostly stuff about your family.” Lance nods, figuring that would be obvious. “They must be really important to you.”

“They are,” Lance agrees with a mouthful of lime and cilantro rice.

“I didn’t have a big family growing up,” Keith says. “It was just me.” Keith pauses and continues in a sadder tone of voice, “And then it really was just me.”

“Hey!” Lance says, pointing his fork at Keith. He squints at him accusingly. “There will be no sadness while I am consuming Chipotle. That’s my new rule.”

Keith snorts and rolls his eyes. “Fine, that’s fair,” he says, grabbing one of the little cups of guacamole and a bag of tortilla chips.

“You know, my _abuela_ makes some bomb guacamole,” Lance says. “The absolute best guacamole you’ll ever have in your life.” He pauses, looking away sadly. “I miss her.”

A rolled-up paper napkin hits him in the side of the head. “Hey!”

“No sadness while I’m eating macaroni and cheese,” Keith says in a deadpan voice.

“A sense of humor!” Lance exclaims. He playfully pushes Keith between bites of mac and cheese. “Where have you been hiding it?”

“Haven’t been hiding it,” Keith says. “You were always too busy hating me to notice.”

Lance puts his hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. “Hate, dear Keith? Such a strong word. More like greatly despised.”

“I feel like that’s worse.”

“Such is life,” Lance says. He gazes happily at Voltron, a brand new coat of shiny paint on her.

“So why’d you join the Jaeger Program?” Keith asks after a minute. “You have a family and a life and all these reasons _not_ to get into a walking metal death machine. Why join?”

“You really wanna know?” he asks. Keith nods. Lance sighs and puts down the tupperware. “When that kaiju attacked LA a couple years ago, it crushed my neighborhood. None of my family was hurt, thank God. We were all out of the country. But we’ve never really had a lot of money so losing the house was… difficult.”

“I can imagine,” Keith says quietly.

“Yeah,” Lance says. “My brother had to work two jobs _and_ go to school just to support us. Even my _abuela_ , who’s been retired for years, considered getting a job again. My dad took up crazy hours and my mom did too. I knew I had to do something, ya know? To make sure that never happened to another family ever again.”

“You’re going to do great. We both are,” Keith assures him, touching his shoulder.  He looks at Voltron. “We _all_ are.”

Lance nods. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

Lance looks back at Keith and smiles at him. Keith has an expression on his face that Lance has never seen before. It’s soft and private. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, laughing.

“I’m not looking at you like anything, idiot,” Keith replies.

He shoves a napkin in Lance’s face for good measure and that’s when the moment breaks. It’s good-natured and teasing, which is new to Lance, but he finds that he definitely prefers it over Keith’s outright malice.

Keith throws his empty juice box at Lance’s head, causing him to sputter indignantly. “Eat your vegetables, you oversized toddler.”

“Whatever, Billy Ray Cyrus,” Lance grumbles into his salad.

“Who?”

“OH MY GOD.”


	3. The Deep End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Lance forces a grin onto his face. He clutches his hand to his chest dramatically, gasping. “What’s this? Keith Kogane, admitting out loud and for the whole world to hear that he trusts me—”
>> 
>> “It’s not to the whole world, dumbass.”
>> 
>> Lance just shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, close enough. Oh Keith, you really do care.”
>> 
>> Keith rolls his eyes, but his smile never leaves his face. “You’re ridiculous.”
>> 
>> “Ha! You’re not denying it.”
>> 
>> “I’m ignoring you.”
>> 
>> “You can’t ignore me for long!” Lance laughs. “See you soon, buddy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late!! we added in some stuff last minute but we feel wayyy better about this chapter now. we love reading your lovely comments so pls feel free to keep sending them. they rejuvenate us and keep us young. enjoy!

Hunk grew up in his father’s auto shop, surrounded by piles and piles of car manuals and car parts. By the age of three, he could proudly proclaim, copying his father’s own words, “I’m a grease monkey!”—even though he could barely say the words without his toddler’s lisp. By the time he was thirteen, he could take a car apart and put it back together with practiced ease. The look of pride on his father’s face the first time he successfully rebuilt his first car is forever seared into Hunk’s mind. Ever since becoming an engineer with the PPDC, Hunk gets to see that same look of pride on his father’s face whenever he video calls home. 

He’s just ended one of those video calls home and is now up on the catwalks of the shatterdome, a welding torch in his hands. It’s maintenance work, nothing important, but he finds the routine of it incredibly soothing. It’s on Beezer, the jaeger belonging to the only other working pilots in the Castle as of now. Hunk frowns as he works. After the drifting scare with Lance and Keith, the two pilots haven’t been allowed anywhere near Voltron. Rolo and Nyma are now the only working pilots in the Castle.  _ Humanity’s only hope, _ Hunk thinks.  _ Well, the  _ PPDC’s  _ only hope. _ With all of the budget cuts to the jaeger program, a lot of things had been riding on Voltron and Beezer. Now, it all rides on Beezer.

Hunk is jolted from his thoughts by the distant call of someone shouting his name. He turns off the torch and pulls up his welding mask. He looks to the floor and sees Shiro, waving his hand at Hunk to come down from his perch.

“What’s up, Marshal?” Hunk asks when he’s finally on solid ground. He wipes his hands with a dirty towel (which, in retrospect, helps about zero percent) and dabs the sweat away from his forehead.

“I have a fun, new project for you,” Shiro says, smiling. He hands him a crisp file.

“Well, you do know how much I love fun, new projects,” Hunk says with a laugh. He takes the file and opens it up, revealing a schematic for a new addition to a jaeger. 

He whistles, impressed. “You know that this has never been done before,” he comments, looking through the rest of the schematic. 

“I know,” Shiro says. He puts a fatherly, supportive hand on Hunk’s shoulder.  “But you’re the best guy we’ve got.”

Hunk gives him a flat look. “With all the UN’s cuts, I’m the only guy you’ve got.”

“Exactly!” 

Hunk looks back down the schematic and sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, where are you going?”

Keith freezes in the hallway, helmet in hand. It's getting close to midnight and the shatterdome is quieter than it has been all day. His jacket is half-way on and he thought he was going to be able to get out of here without anyone noticing. But, of course, it has to be Lance who peeks his head out of his room and finds Keith on his way out.

“Uh, out?” Keith answers tentatively. He isn’t entirely sure why Lance is speaking to him—honestly, he assumed Lance would be upset with him after his huge mess up in Voltron earlier. It’s Keith’s fault they’re on probation. But here they are: Lance looking at him with a loose grin on his face and Keith, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“I know that much, 80s version of Gerard Way,” Lance says. Keith makes a noise at the comparison but, in true Lance fashion, Lance just barrels on.  “Where exactly are you going?”

Keith waves the helmet around. “Just on a bike ride, I guess,” he says. He pauses for a second, taking in Lance’s slight pout. “Would you… like to come with me?”

“Oh, Keith, I thought you'd never ask!” Lance says in an exaggerated southern accent. He pretends to fan himself, as if he's having a fainting spell. Keith just rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile. Then Lance bats his eyelashes at Keith, over-the-top fake sultry and charm, but Keith’s stomach flips regardless. He tries to ignore it.

“Let me get my, uh, spare helmet,” Keith says, feeling his face warm slightly. He turns so he's spared the humiliation of Lance noticing. 

“You do that, Keithy boy,” Lance calls after him. 

Keith grabs the spare from under his bed. They meet up a few minutes later and Keith throws it to Lance, who fumbles with the helmet, nearly dropping it, before he regains proper motor control. 

Lance examines the helmet and laughs. 

“What? Keith asks, automatically bristling at Lance’s laughter.

“Nothing, man!” Lance says. “Just… the Power Ranger sticker?”

Keith’s hackles rise further and he closes off from Lance automatically. “So?” 

“So… It's cute, that's all.”

Keith squints at Lance suspiciously.

“Hey, you’re looking at the guy who owned the sheets and the boxers as a kid,” Lance says, tucking the helmet under his arm. They both start walking to the exit of the shatterdome. “But the red Ranger? Really? You're so typical.”

Keith shoves Lance into the wall.

“Ow! Hey! We’re cool now! Stop hurting me!”

Keith lets go, ignoring him and continuing on to the parking lot where he keeps his motorcycle. He kicks up the kickstand and he swings his leg over to sit on it.

“Jesus Christ, you look as douchey as I always thought you would,” Lance mutters. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Lance puts on the helmet and joins Keith on the bike, gripping the leather seat.

“Put your arms around me,” Keith says.

Lance whines. “Why?”

“Because I like to go fast,” he answers. “If you’d like to not become roadkill, I suggest you hang on.”

Lance grumbles but does as he’s told. Keith almost immediately regrets it.

Lance is like a furnace against Keith’s back. He can feel Lance’s body heat through the jacket he's wearing. He can also feel Lance’s heartbeat, which is jackhammering against his spine. They're touching from head to toe.

“Nervous, McClain?” Keith asks, ignoring the way his own heart is pounding. He starts the motorcycle with a quick turn of a key and it roars to life underneath them.

“N-not on your life, Kogane,” Lance answers. He grips onto Keith tighter, as if he's taking the challenge even further.

Keith revs the engine and takes off, causing Lance to yelp in surprise as he rounds a sharp corner. 

Okay, Keith has known he was gay since he was seven and he was basically in love with his best friend Devon. They kissed on the schoolyard and then never talked about it ever again. (Devon lives in Connecticut, doing some kind of work with kids.) He has no qualms about his sexuality, honestly hasn't even thought too hard about it for years. Dating hasn't exactly been on his radar for a couple of years, what with the Jaeger Program training.

Finding Lance  _ attractive _ wasn't the problem. It was finding  _ Lance _ attractive.

Keith’s heart does some weird backflips in his chest as he feels Lance shift against his back, tighten his arms around Keith’s torso. He's thankful he has a helmet on so Lance can't see the flush Keith is sure is all over his face. 

“Where are we going?” Lance shouts over the loud, whipping wind. Keith merges onto the highway, which is mostly empty. 

“Somewhere I think you’ll like,” Keith shouts back.

The ride takes only twenty minutes, which is a miracle considering they live in Southern California where the traffic is almost as bad as people’ attitudes. It’s peaceful and quiet and just the kind of thing Keith needs to clear his head. He’s been in an awful headspace ever since the failed drift. 

He hadn’t remembered that day with that much clarity in such a long time. It had started to become a hazy memory with only random moments of sharpness. He hadn’t really remembered the feeling of pure terror until he was there again, drowning in it, helpless against the onslaught of raw horror and fear. It had been an almost-healed scab. Now he feels like it’s an open wound and someone decided to rub salt in it.

But the memory is weirdly distorted, since now he envisions Lance there as well, when he knows that’s not at all what happened. It’s like he could’ve really felt Lance’s long, spindly hands against his neck, the back of his head, tangling in his hair. When he remembers that moment now, of the kaiju standing over him and Shiro, the background fades and Lance is what’s in focus, nothing else.

His hands shook for hours after they drifted. But they only stopped when he thought of Lance there, with him, in that moment, bringing him back from a ledge he hasn’t been on the edge of in years. 

Lance whoops when he sees the ocean as Keith merges off the freeway. He’s been uncharacteristically silent the whole ride here, in the dead of night on the LA highway. Keith isn’t sure half the time how he got here, but he honestly couldn’t ask to be anywhere else in the world. 

Lance removes his hands from Keith’s torso and jumps off the bike. Keith chalks up how cold he feels to sea air. The Pacific Ocean is constantly freezing and really only tolerable during the heat of summer. Keith prefers being warm to being cold, but Lance is obviously excited to be here, since he immediately takes off his shoes and rolls up the bottom of jeans, trying to sprint to the tide at the same time. Lance almost faceplanting into the sand three different times is a sight to behold.

Keith makes his way over the ocean and Lance is already splashing around, kicking up sand and water as he goes. 

“How old are you?” Keith asks, loudly enough to be heard over the rush of the ocean. 

“Old enough,” Lance says. He splashes water at Keith but doesn’t hit him. Keith levels him with an unimpressed look. “Oh, shut your quiznak.”

An image a ten year old Lance flashes through Keith’s mind. It feels like his own memory, but he knows that it’s not. He sees a huge ocean, endlessly expanding in front of him, a beachfront that Keith himself has never been to, but one that Lance has been to every summer since he was a toddler. He sees a family, several siblings, even more cousins, parents, aunt, uncles, grandparents. A family life that Keith has never been lucky enough to have. 

“C’mere!” Lance says, waving at Keith. “The water’s fine!”

“The water is freezing!”

“Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket. Just get in the water.”

Keith sighs but he also starts unlacing his boots. He rolls up his pant legs and joins Lance in the water, slowly but surely. The water is absolutely freezing, but Keith ignores it. He wades forward and stands next to Lance.

“Are we friends now, Keith?” Lance asks, putting his hands in his pockets. Keith can barely see him in the darkness, but the moon casts a shadow against the angles of Lance’s face. His heart clenches in his chest and Keith has both a hard time looking at Lance and looking away from him.

“Something like that.”

 

* * *

 

When Keith awakens the next morning from dreams of Lance and beaches and Chipotle, he isn’t given time to think about what those dreams mean. The alarm is blaring, and he hears Coran’s voice loud and clear over the intercom in his room.

“Team Beezer, report to Bay 06, level A-58,” Coran is saying. “Kaiju attack, code name: Haggar. All other personnel please report to your assigned stations. I repeat, Team Beezer, report to Bay 06—” 

Keith doesn’t waste any more time listening to the repeated instructions. He bounds out of bed and pulls on a black shirt and a pair of black slacks. He and Lance may be on probation from piloting their jaeger, but he sure as hell isn’t missing this. 

By the time he makes it to mission control, the room is bustling. Lance is already there, standing next to Shiro with a tense expression on his face.

“Nyma and Rolo are just about to roll out,” Shiro says as Keith approaches, glancing at him sidelong. 

“What category is it?” Keith asks, crossing his arms and staring down at one of the holographic screens. Coran comes into his view, tapping away furiously at the control panel all while wrinkling his nose and twitching his moustache.

“Category III,” Coran supplies. “It’s headed right for the southern California coast. Rolo and Nyma shouldn’t have to go far to find it.” With that, he’s moving away again, fiddling with his headpiece as he relays instructions to Team Beezer on their way to the kaiju.

“Something’s not right,” a sharp female voice says. Keith looks up from the screen, eyes focusing on Allura’s approaching form. Her white hair is up high in its bun and her mouth is pulled into a tight frown. 

Shiro nods. “The readings of this kaiju are strange. Coran said he’s never seen anything like it, and I’m inclined to agree.”

“Strange how?” Lance says from Keith’s left. An eyebrow is raised but his mouth quivers, betraying his worry.

“The kaiju, nicknamed Haggar, keeps dropping in and out of our readings,” Allura says, using her fingers to bring up the corresponding chart. “One minute it’s there, steadily making its way to the coast, and the next it’s just—gone.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the readings. He’s no genius when it comes to this kind of thing, but even he can see that Allura is right.

“What does this all mean?” he asks, frowning as he glances over at her.

“Possibly nothing. There’s a chance our readings are off, but…”

“But that’s only a slim chance,” Shiro finishes. “It’s much more probable that this category III is doing something to purposely evade our readings.”

“They can  _ do _ that?” Lance asks incredulously.

Coran zips by once more.

“It’s probable they can do lots of things we don’t know about yet,” he says, fiddling with his moustache. “We’ll just have to hope Rolo and Nyma can beat whatever Haggar is doing.”

 

* * *

 

They cannot.

The fight is over before it really even begins. Team Beezer didn’t stand a chance. How were they supposed to know that Haggar would have the ability to hide its own body heat? By the time Rolo and Nyma arrive, Beezer landing hard on the ocean floor below, Haggar is nowhere to be seen on Beezer’s _ or  _ the Castle’s radar. Lance is forced to watch in horror alongside Keith, Shiro, Allura, and the rest of the personnel in mission control as Rolo and Nyma are caught off-guard by the slippery Haggar, who suddenly bursts out of the water, fluid as can be, and swipes off Beezer’s entire left arm.

He hears Shiro gasp as Coran and Allura shout into their headsets, telling Rolo and Nyma to get out of there, to head back towards the coast at the very least, but even from his place at the back of the control room Lance can hear the shouts of desperation and pain filter through his superiors’ headsets.

Then, all at once, the transmission goes out.

There is a surprising silence in the LOCCENT room. Everyone is stock still as they turn to Allura, unsure of what to do next, unsure of how to handle what just happened. Lance watches as Allura closes her eyes briefly, takes a deep breath, and then opens them. She looks more determined than he’s ever seen her.

Without turning, she says, “Keith, Lance. Get into your drivesuits. We’re sending Voltron out.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You ready for this, Keith?” Lance asks, trying to keep his voice light. The technicians are quickly filing out of the Conn-Pod, leaving just Lance and Keith and an overwhelming weight that has suddenly settled on them both.

“I have to be,” Keith says, voice gruff. “Lance?”

“Yea?”

“We’re going to be in each other’s heads again soon, so you’ll hear this eventually regardless but… we got this. I trust you. And—you can trust me.”

And, Lance finds, he does trust him. He’s trusted him this entire time, despite Keith chasing the rabbit the first time they tried drifting. It was never really a question of trust. It was a question of pride and dislike. But now, staring at each other in Voltron, stakes higher than ever, Lance finds that even those things mean nothing. They can do this. They can.

Lance forces a grin onto his face. He clutches his hand to his chest dramatically, gasping. “What’s this? Keith Kogane, admitting out loud and for the whole world to hear that he trusts  _ me _ —”

“It’s not to the whole world, dumbass.”

Lance just shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, close enough. Oh Keith, you really  _ do _ care.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but his smile never leaves his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ha! You’re not denying it.”

“I’m ignoring you.”

“You can’t ignore me for long!” Lance laughs. “See you soon, buddy.”

 

* * *

 

When Voltron arrives on the scene, they see Haggar clearly for a moment: it is poised next to the sinking form of Beezer, half out of the water and half in, head pointed towards Voltron. And then—it’s gone, diving deep into the waters below.

Beside him, Lance hears Keith make a  _ tsk _ noise.

“Remember,” Allura’s voice says, filtering through the jaeger. “Haggar had the advantage before because it caught Team Beezer unaware. You guys know what it’s capable of now but it also knows you’re here.”

Coran’s voice cuts in. “It’s quicker in the water than most other kaiju, and it’s still somehow concealing its heat signature from us. You boys need to _ be careful _ . There’s no telling what it’s going to do next.”

“We hear you loud and clear, guys,” Lance says, rolling his shoulders. “We’ve got a plan.”

“We do?” Keith says out loud just as he hears Coran and Allura say, “you do?”

“Yea,” Lance says. In his mind, he thinks at Keith,  _ I just got a glimpse of it from you. Draw it onto land. It’s risky, but it might be the only option we have. _

Lance feels Keith’s surprise through the drift—whether at Lance picking up on his plan or thinking it’s a good one or something else entirely, Lance doesn’t know. What he does know is that Keith’s surprise very quickly morphs into pure determination.

_ Grapple with it for a bit first, _ Keith thinks.  _ Move it closer to land and out of the water as we go. _

_ Sounds good to me, man. _

“Lance, Keith!” Coran shouts over the comms. “We just picked up its heat signature for a brief moment, it’s coming on your left!”

With a loud huff, Keith and Lance turn and lift Voltron’s arms to block just as Haggar strikes out of the ocean.

Haggar, they quickly find, is both strong and wily. For a creature of its size, it’s surprisingly fast. The water doesn’t help. One minute Voltron is punching, thinking they’ll land a hit, and the next there’s nothing there, Haggar having dipped into the ocean and slipped away. Lance grits his teeth in frustration; Keith lets out a yell next to him. They’re getting tired fast, and it seems like there’s no end in sight to this damn battle.

“What are you two doing out there?” Allura’s stern voice says over their coms. “I thought you had a plan?”

“We’re trying our best,” Lance gets out, breathing heavy as he blocks a swipe from Haggar. Keith just growls.

“I’m going to need you to do your best  _ faster _ ,” she responds. There is a shuffling sound from the com, and then he hears Shiro’s voice.

“You guys got this,” he says, voice calm as ever. “Just believe in each other—trust in each other—and you’ll have this thing beat in no time.”

“Yea, well,” Lance mutters, eyes trying to follow Haggar’s form as it bobs and weaves through the waves, “that’s easier said than done.”

Shiro’s laugh is grim. “Believe me, I know. But also believe me when I say that you guys can do this. I know you can.”

Lance forces himself to bite back a “thanks, dad” comment, and Keith laughs to his right.

_ What?  _ Lance thinks back, indignant.  _ You can’t deny he’s, like, the most dad person ever to dad. _

_ No, you’re right. That’s why I’m laughing. _

_ Oh. _ Well, fuck Keith and his distracting laugh, and his confusing sudden friendship. Damn all of this. It was putting him off his game. Ruining his groove.

Keith laughs again as they try once more to attack Haggar, and a rush of fondness hits Lance along with it. It does something funny to Lance’s head and heart, and he smiles, even in the heat of battle. He can’t entertain what any of this might mean, though, because they’re getting closer and closer to the empty beach in the distance.

_ Almost there _ , Keith thinks to him.  _ Shiro and Allura aren’t going to like this. _

He’s right, Lance knows. Moving to land means moving towards civilians, means possibly putting more lives in danger. But they aren’t going to beat Haggar doing what they’re currently doing. They aren’t going to win this fight in the water. They need to move.

Voltron continues to try and hit Haggar, dodging when possible, taking more and more steps backwards towards the coast. When Haggar lands a hit, causing Voltron to stumble back onto the beach, one foot deep in the sand, they hear Allura hiss.

“ _ Boys _ ,” she says. “What are you  _ doing _ ? I knew you were up to something!”

“Winning this goddamn fight,” Keith says, voicing Lance’s thoughts word-for-word.

The next time Haggar attacks, they’re ready.

The kaiju lunges for them, like so many times before, but this time Voltron lets it, grasps it in a headlock, and swings it up and onto the land before letting go. The kaiju roars, a terrible, ear-splitting sound.

_ Plasma cannon powering up, _ an AI voice intones. Keith readies the cannon, gritting his teeth a little.

“Ready, Lance?”

“You know it,” he replies.

Together, yelling in unison, they jump towards the kaiju and fire.

 

* * *

 

Pidge watches the kaiju fall.

They sit in their small beat-up car, next to Hunk’s worried frame, grinning widely throughout the entire fight.

“I really don’t think we should be doing this,” Hunk says for the umpteenth time that night. His eyes widen as Voltron’s plasma cannon blasts a hole straight through the kaiju’s chest.

“Yea, yea, so you’ve said,” Pidge says. They turn the key in the car, the small thing quietly roaring to life. “And yet you haven’t left.”

“I’m not going to  _ leave _ you alone out here, Pidge!” Hunk says frantically as his friend slowly maneuvers the car down to the beach. “You could die! And then what would Shiro say?”

Pidge rolls their eyes. “Oh, please. If Shiro knew what I was out here doing, he might kill me himself.”

Instead of replying, Hunk just frowns, looking around. “We really shouldn’t be doing this,” he repeats.

Pidge watches as Voltron walks back into the ocean, leaving the kaiju body behind, and slowly moves their car to the beach’s entrance. They park it, bounding out of the car in excitement.

“C’mon, Hunk,” they say. “If you’re gonna stay, at least help me get the equipment out.” They rub their hands together, grinning at the dead kaiju in the distance. “We’ve gotta act fast.”

 

* * *

 

Allura paces around the control room.

“How could they do that!” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. “Do they realize how dangerous that was? How stupid?”

Shiro stifles a sigh. They are the only two left in the room. Shiro sent Coran and the others away for rest after Voltron defeated Haggar. Coran had looked at him in grateful, tired relief before patting him twice on the shoulder. Coran knew better than anyone else that their princess was upset. Allura was good at keeping her emotions in check for the populace, but those that really knew her saw the tell-tale signs of anger or stress in the corners of her eyes and the slight flush of her cheeks.

And so here they were. Shiro, leaning against a control panel, listens to Allura in silence—lets her get it all out now, while she can, before she has to calm herself and her features and return to being PPDC royalty.

“I can’t believe them,” Allura says, still pacing. “We  _ just _ lost Beezer—just lost  _ Rolo and Nyma _ —and they decide to pull a stunt like that? Without even running it by us first? How irresponsible, idiotic—”

She falters when Shiro steps up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Allura,” he says, voice soothing. “Take a deep breath.” She closes her eyes and does so—in, one, two, three, and out, one, two, three.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Allura says, sighing as he rubs small circles into her shoulders. “We just have so much riding on this. On  _ them,  _ now. Without Rolo and Nyma—” Here her voice falters. Shiro sees small, hot angry tears well up in the corners of her eyes. “Without them, we just have Voltron.  _ Just Voltron _ . And I—I’m sorry, I know you feel the pressure too, I shouldn’t—” She breaks off again and leans into his touch. “I shouldn’t do this to you. You shouldn’t have to take on my burdens as well as your own.”

Shiro chuckles and pulls her into his arms. He feels her relax into his embrace, her arms circling around his torso.

“Don’t apologize, Allura,” he says. “I’m more than willing to share your burdens. You know I am.” He feels her laugh shortly against his chest as she tightens her grip. He smiles.

 

* * *

 

When Pidge was younger, their older brother Matt was their idol. Pidge wanted to be exactly like him. He was smart, funny, resourceful. To Pidge, there was nothing that Matt Holt couldn’t do.

Pidge remembers the day he died with frightening clarity, like an imprint on their brain. It was just over two years ago but sometimes the hurt of it is still so fresh and raw that Pidge can’t stand it.

The kaiju they had fought was the largest anyone had seen at the time. But, to Pidge, their brother was a hero. He could do anything. His jaeger, Kerberos Moon, was one of the best in the fleet and Pidge trusted his co-pilot, Shiro, like a brother. Pidge had all the faith in the world their brother would come back to them, victorious as always.

They hadn’t expected a mangled jaeger and a one-armed Shiro to be only survivors.

There wasn’t even a body to bury.

Pidge spent their whole life after that researching and learning more about the kaiju, obsessed with them almost to the point of insanity. Losing Matt to those monsters didn’t simply fuel a hatred towards them; it fueled their curiosity as well.

_ Know thy enemy _ , Pidge thinks.

“Okay, I’ve connected the neural spike to its brain,” says Hunk. He wipes water from his eyes. In a truly surprising turn of events, it’s pouring rain all over the coast, thunder crashing in the distance. “Are you sure about this?”

“Nope, but I’m gonna do it anyway,” Pidge says. They affix the skeletal helmet on their head and pick up the button to activate the neural handshake. “Hunk?”

“Oh no no no, don’t give me any last words crap, I don’t need it, I don’t want it, don’t say anything at all ever right now,” Hunk says, waving his hands about manically as if to bat the words Pidge hasn’t yet said away. “You’re gonna be fine, just like always.”

Pidge laughs a little grimly. “Tell Shiro sorry for me,” they say. Hunk groans dramatically. Pidge clears their throat and shakes some confidence into themself. “Initiating neural handshake in three, two, one…”

They press the button.

 

* * *

 

Pidge has never ever taken in this much information at one time. It’s like watching hundreds of movies at once and only picking up bits and pieces from each, the entire plot of every movie lost to you.

Pidge is able to pick out some memories, mostly their own. Their dad working on the creation of the PONS system, them and Matt when they were kids playing in the backyard of their home, Matt’s acceptance into the jaeger program. Matt’s funeral, the look on their father’s face--

But most important are the images that Pidge can’t recognize. Of a world or dimension (Pidge doesn’t know, but does it matter? It’s amazing regardless) they’ve never seen before, that no human has ever seen before.

It’s all garbled and messed up, Pidge knows this. The kaiju brain they’re using is rapidly decaying, faster than Pidge can think. They’re afraid they might not be able to process this amount of information before the brain is useless. But Pidge sees the egg sacks and the society they’ve created and the world where they live, submerged like a monstrous Atlantis in the deep sea of god knows where.

Pidge hears the communication between the kaiju, all of them connected and speaking in a language that Pidge both can and cannot understand.

 

* * *

 

“Oh shit, oh god, oh fuck, Pidge!” Hunk yells. Hunk watches as Pidge starts to convulse and shake, a stream of blood dripping from their nose. Their eyes roll dangerously into the back of their head. He presses the button at the center of the skeletal helmet and ends the drift between Pidge and the kaiju before any more damage can be done.

Pidge collapses in Hunk’s arms, still seizing wildly from the neural overload.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Hunk says to himself. He scoops Pidge up and runs to the car, placing them carefully in the passenger seat. “C’mon, Pidge, we gotta get back to the Castle.”

Hunk has never driven so quickly or dangerously in his entire life. He doesn’t even bother properly parking the car. He takes Pidge (who has thankfully stopped convulsing) out of the car and flags down the nearest PPDC personnel.

“Please, I need medical assistance!” Hunk shouts. “Pidge did something really fucking stupid!”

 

* * *

 

When Voltron arrives back at the Castle after defeating the kaiju, Lance feels dead to the world. Like a zombie struggling to survive. He knows Allura and Shiro will want words with them after that dumbass stunt they pulled on the coast, but he’s so tired—so  _ relieved— _ that he can barely think straight. All he wants to do is climb in bed, cuddle up, and not leave, ever. He’s about to suck it up, shake himself out of it and just go to the debriefing, when he feels a hand grip his shoulder and squeeze lightly.

“Go sleep,” Keith tells him, smiling softly. Lance never knew Keith could make that expression. “I’ll handle mom and dad. Convince them to let us rest and debrief tomorrow morning.  _ Go _ . Sleep it off.”

Lance feels a surge of something he can’t quite name. It’s a warmth in his chest that starts small and spreads, seeping through him. If he were more awake, he would spend more time trying to figure out just what it is; but as it stands, Lance is far too exhausted to even consider it. He writes the emotion off, squeezes Keith’s shoulder back, before zombie-shuffling back to his room and immediately falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

“You know better than this, Keith,” Shiro says, looking at him sternly. Keith knows he should probably feel guiltier, but right now, he’s tired, sweaty, and doesn’t have it in him to explain why he and Lance did what they did. Keith thinks back to Haggar, back to drifting with Lance in Voltron, back to the moment when they’d looked at each other and  _ known _ it was the only thing they could do to stop the kaiju, and he can’t find a single guilty bone in his body. Even as tired as he is, he knows he and Lance were right. If he has to endure a lecture because of it, then so be it.

Allura is there too, tall and frustrated and even more imposing than Shiro. She opens her mouth and Keith mentally prepares himself for the worst of it when the door slides open and Coran rushes in, eyes wide and out of breath.

“Allura! Shiro! We need you in the infirmary! Pidge, they—they drifted with a—”

Shiro is up and moving before Coran even finishes his sentence. He flies out of the room, not even sparing a glance back toward Keith or Allura. Keith looks from Coran to Allura, confusion evident on his face.

“Dammit,” Allura says under her breath. Clearing her throat, she says, this time a bit louder, “Thank you, Coran. And  _ you _ .” She turns her eyes onto Keith, frowning but looking so much more worn than she had a minute ago. “We  _ will _ talk about this tomorrow. With Lance. This is the last time you cover for him, okay?” Allura closes her eyes and rubs her temples before taking a deep breath. She shares a look with Coran before quickly leaving the room.

“What’s wrong with Pidge?” Keith asks in alarm. He may not be the closest with them, but he counts the small scientist among his few friends. But, above all else, he knows how close Lance is with them. The fear that creeps up his throat is for Pidge, but also for Lance.

“Pidge will be fine,” Coran says, hands up in a placating gesture. “They’re stabilized now, but Shiro and Allura need to be there to get down Hunk’s account of what happened.”

“Hunk was there? What the hell happened?”

“I’m sure you’ll be informed tomorrow, along with Lance. For now, go get some rest. You deserve some after everything that happened today.” Coran’s smile is kind but oh so tired. “It’s awfully hard work, being the defenders of the Earth.”

Keith returns the smile as best he can. Awfully hard work, indeed.

 

* * *

 

Lance is dreaming. This he knows for a fact. Lance is dreaming because he is happy, because he feels completely at peace, and because he is kissing someone. Because he’s kissing Keith.

They’re in bed, and Keith has one arm thrown across Lance’s body. They are pressed together, their breaths mingling as their share kiss after lazy kiss. In the back of his mind, there is a small part alert enough to recognize that this is a bit  _ weird _ , that this is something he shouldn’t 100% be okay with, because this is  _ Keith  _ he’s dreaming about.  _ Keith Kogane _ , his rival turned co-pilot. Rival turned friend? Whatever, Lance thinks, silencing that part of his brain. Why question something that makes him happy? It’s just a dream, after all.

He drags one hand through Keith’s hair— _ oh _ , that hair, so soft, like silk—and uses his other hand to softly trace down the middle of Keith’s back. Keith’s lips feel rough against his—has he ever  _ heard _ of Chapstick? Good God—but they are also soft in their movements. Their kisses are lazy, gentle, and Lance finds he could stay here forever and be content.

“Man, am I gonna be upset when I wake up,” Lance says out loud, his breath ghosting over Keith’s lips. Dream Keith frowns against him, looking at him in confusion.

“What?” Dream Keith asks.

“Oh God, now I ruined it,” Lance says aloud, sighing. “Just—let’s just keep kissing. Keep this dream going as long as possible. Okay?”

Dream Keith shrugs. “Sure, whatever.” And then they’re kissing again, Dream Keith pulling Lance even closer, and Lance smiles against the kisses.

He’ll deal with the implications of this when he wakes up. For now, he lets himself be happy.

 

* * *

 

When Keith wakes up the next morning, he touches a hand to his mouth. He licks his lips. They’re still tingling, leftover from his dream with Lance.

Keith knows that ghost-drifting is a thing—Dr. Caitlin Lightcap herself had confirmed it. Sometimes, co-pilots still feel their link, albeit subtly, even after exiting the drift. Keith never thought he’d be drift compatible enough with someone to experience it. But after last night, he was sure that was what had happened.

What had Lance said? He was going to be upset when he woke up? Keith’s face starts to burn, not unpleasantly. Lance thought it was his dream. He had no idea they’d accidentally shared it.

  
Keith rolls over in bed, hands still touching his lips. He smiles.


	4. Double Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is exactly what he thought would happen, and exactly why he’d avoided Keith in the first place. The drift opens up everything to your partner—it has to. That’s what being co-pilots means. So when the memory of the dream washes over them both, a striking haze of intensity amongst all other memories, thoughts, and feelings, Lance desperately tries not to let himself fall into a full-blown panic. Because he can feel love; he can feel warmth, tenderness, adoration, all rolled up into this one silly dream about Keith. He can feel his own love for Keith, and also something else. He feels confusion enter the drift too—Keith’s, he’s sure—but he quickly lets the memory filter by, lets them both come out of the drift, until they’re conscious of being back in the Conn-Pod, ready to fight.
> 
> “Lance?” Keith asks out loud, voicing his concern and confusion.
> 
> “Don’t worry about it,” Lance says, wincing. He tries to laugh. Laugh it off, Lance thinks, because that always works. “It’s nothing. Fight now, talk later.” He knows without looking that Keith is frowning hard, but ignores it. He can take his own advice, at least for now. Fight now, talk later. The kaiju is the priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know how when you have a job and then you're too tired to do anything ever
> 
> yeah
> 
> sorry about that

When Lance was in the third grade, he was in love with a girl named Veronica Castillo. She had curly brown hair and she really liked the Power Rangers. Lance also really liked the Power Rangers, so they got along great for third graders. When he told her that he liked her, she was surrounded by all her female third grader friends. In response to his heartfelt confession, they all screamed “EWWW!” and ran away.

Such has been the love life Lance Alejandro Rivera McClain since that time.

Well, there have been a lot fewer third graders, but that’s to be expected.

Discovering he was bisexual was a relatively easy process. He figured it out in high school. He kind of temporarily fell in love with the young, hot substitute teacher for his math class. It was all kinds of bad, but also all kinds of good. He also might’ve made out with one of his friends at the time. His parents were surprisingly chill when he came out to them at 17 years old, and so was the rest of his family. (Minus his abuela, but what can you do with 70-year-old Catholics, right?)

Lance, naturally flirtatious bastard that he is, has had a lot of dates. Relationships? Not so much. Cue the tape for the emotionally scarring rejection from Veronica Castillo in the third grade.

So, when Lance figures out he’s definitely in love with Keith fucking Kogane, he enters full-on panic mode.

“Are you okay?” Keith asks one morning when they’re eating breakfast together. “I can feel your anxiety all the way over here. What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing’s up, except maybe the sky and the stars and the sun and really just the rest of the universe in general,” Lance rambles, shifting his eggs from one side of the plate to the other. “What’s up with you?”

Keith looks at Lance skeptically, his eyes squinted in suspicion. Then he sighs heavily, obviously deciding to let it go. “Pidge is getting out of the infirmary today. Hunk and Shiro have been worried sick.”

“Well, Shiro loves being worried. It’s his preferred dad setting.”

“Yeah, well, he and Allura have been under a lot of stress lately from the higher-ups. You know that’s why we got picked to pilot Voltron so fast. They needed pilots to prove jaegers can still protect people instead of just getting slaughtered by them,” Keith says. 

(He talks a lot now, mostly to Lance. Keith was always a man of few words, but now it seems like he has a hidden vocabulary you can only hear when you’ve unlocked his tragic backstory. It’s nice and Lance loves talking with and listening to Keith, which is a brand new sensation that he finds he certainly does not mind at all.)

Keith runs his fingers through his thick, dark hair and oh, how Lance wishes those were his own fingers. He wants to run his fingers through that hair and feel its softness. He wants to run his fingers through Keith’s hair while they’re kissing, passionately, so perfectly. He remembers the dream he had and it’s like he can really feel the ghost of Keith’s lips on his. It’s a blessing and a curse because he has to live with this knowledge but also live with the fact that none of it was real.

Lance jumps when a big hand lands on his shoulder.

“Whoa, man, it’s just me,” says Hunk, standing behind him. “I just got word from one of the medics that Pidge is probably gonna wake up soon. I think we should all be there when they do.”

“Yeah, buddy, sounds good,” Lance says and he is amazed at how steady his voice sounds, even though he had just been imagining making out with Keith in vivid detail. “We’ll be there.” Lance knows without asking that Keith will be coming too.

Lance looks over at Keith, who gives him a soft smile. Even the littlest things like that send Lance’s heart racing. He wants to hold Keith’s hand over the table and smile back at him and call him “cute” and tell him all the things he loves about him.

But he can’t do that, can he?

They’ve only recently been able to get along without wanting to kill each other. After last time, they’ve become known as one of the most formidable co-pilot teams in the US. They drift like breathing, easy as pie. Lance likes being comfortable with Keith, being friends with Keith. He isn’t about to ruin a potentially incredible friendship because he caught some feelings.

Granted, they’re some pretty big feelings, but his point stands.

He thinks of Veronica Castillo and does not reach across the table for Keith’s hand.

 

* * *

 

Pidge’s hands can’t stop shaking. It’s weird for them, not having complete control of their body or their mind. Water spills over the rim of the cup, dripping over their hand and onto the crisp, white hospital bed sheets.

Hunk has been keeping a vigilant watch over them, partially out of some sort of screwed-up guilt and partially because Hunk is just a good friend. Hunk tells Pidge that everyone’s been coming by a ton, especially Shiro.

Pidge feels their own pang of guilt at that.

They put the glass down on the bedside table as carefully as they can, but water still goes everywhere. They grimace at their own inability to do something so simple.

“Oh man, I love hospital jello,” says Lance. Lance sits at the end of the bed, slurping up what, at Pidge’s last count, is his fourth cup of jello. Pidge’s eyes find Keith, who is leaning against the wall. Keith rolls his eyes at Lance, but he can’t hide the smile that ghosts over his lips. Lance doesn’t see it, but Pidge does.

“How old are you? Five?” Keith asks.

“Old enough,” Lance flirts back cheekily with an exaggerated wink. Keith cuffs him on the back of the head, but he blushes faintly anyway.

Pidge is about to speak, but the official-sounding click of heels on the cement floor interrupts them. Allura walks in, a tight expression on her face. Behind her is Shiro, hands in the pockets of his long overcoat. Keith stands up straight. Lance slurps the remainder of his fifth cup of jello and tosses the empty container behind him.

“How’re you feeling, Pidge?” Allura asks kindly.

“Like I drifted with Lance,” Pidge says.

“Hey!” Lance protests.

Allura’s expression softens at Pidge’s easy joke. She motions to the bed, asking silent permission to sit. Pidge nods and Allura gracefully takes a seat.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Shiro says, moving to stand next to Allura. The tone of his voice is one that Pidge rarely ever hears: barely-contained anger.

Pidge swallows. “I had to see, I had to know if I was right, if my theory was correct—”

“You could’ve died!” Shiro shouts. Everyone jumps at his sudden outburst except for Allura, whose eyes are cast down at the floor. “Or worse. And all for what? To prove that you were right? You have friends here who love you and care about you, who want what’s best for you. And you were ready to throw that away for some theory?”

Pidge is silent. They don’t have an answer.

Allura takes Shiro’s hand and squeezes it. He sighs, moving to stand next to Pidge. He kneels on the floor and looks up at them. “Matt would’ve never forgiven me if something had happened to you,” Shiro whispers.

“That’s why I did it,” Pidge says. “For Matt. I had to understand them, I had to know. I couldn’t live knowing his death was senseless. I had to make sense of everything.”

“Do you?” Allura asks.

“Do I what?”

“Do you understand them?”

There’s a beat of silence before Pidge nods. “I saw them,” Pidge says. Keith and Lance stand at the end of the bed, listening intently. “Their… dimension. Their planet. I saw it all, the way they live and interact.” Pidge swallows. “They… They’re targeting us. Humans, planet Earth. They want to take over. They’re not killing for fun or survival. They’re killing us so they can take the Earth from us.”

The room is deadly silent.

“So… we’re fucked?” Lance interjects. Keith elbows him in the stomach.

The whole room is quiet. No one argues.

Pidge shakes their head and licks their lips. A faint thumping starts up in the back of their head as they search their memories of the drift, what it was like being connected to a kaiju. There are so many images and memories to sift through.

“There… There is something we can do,” Pidge finally says, looking up at Shiro and meeting his worried eyes. Pidge’s hands ball into fists in an effort to still their violent shaking. They let out an equally shaky breath. “The Breach… We can use the Breach to kill them.”

“But we’ve already tried that,” protests Allura. “Anything we throw at the Breach just bounces back--”

“I know,” Pidge says. “That’s because you need to use their genetic code to get in. It’s like one of those barcode scanners at the supermarket. You use their code and you can get through the Breach.”

“What I’m hearing is…” Keith trails off, then starts again. “Are you saying we have to ride a kaiju into their dimension?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, have you guys seen Lance?” Keith asks when he gets to the labs. It’s been a couple of days since Pidge woke up from their coma. Shiro said to take it easy, but of course,here’s Pidge, back in the labs with Hunk, working on whatever project they were doing in preparation for the PPDC’s new plan to nuke the Breach.

“Oh, you just missed him,” Hunk says. “He said he had a meeting to go to.”

“A meeting,” Keith says flatly.

“Yeeep,” Hunk answers, determinedly not looking at Keith. Pidge coughs and also does not look at Keith.

“Without his co-pilot?” Keith asks, though he’s not really expecting a decent answer.

“Yes and it’s very important so I suggest you don’t go looking for him to disturb him,” Hunk says quickly.

Keith knows without trying again that he’s not going to get any more information out of Hunk and Pidge. He visibly deflates and rubs his face.

Lance has been avoiding him for the past few days. Cutting practices short, leaving meals early. Lance won’t even go near the drift simulator; he always has some excuse, like his head hurts or he’s busy or whatever. Keith hasn’t been pushing Lance to spend time with him. He knows better than to demand time with Lance. He’s not some needy little asshole who  _ needs _ to spend time with his copilot.

Except Keith doesn’t feel like just Lance’s copilot anymore. Not after that ghost-drift.

But Lance is like water slipping through his fingers now.

He thinks about the kiss in that dream all the time. Neither of them have brought it up to the other. Keith isn’t about to start that awkward conversation: “So, we made out in our dreams the other night, how do you feel about that?” That would go over well.

But even if that kiss was fake, even if none of it was real at all, it still felt better than anything Keith had ever known before. To have Lance in his arms, to kiss him, to hold him, to touch him…

Keith has known about his feelings for Lance for a while. He’s not lying to himself. However, Keith has never been the type of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. He bottles emotions up, keeps his heart safely tucked away. But Lance makes him want to go onto the roof and tell the world how much he admires him, loves him. It’s new and frustrating, but Keith knows what he wants.

“Okay,” Keith mutters, scratching his head. “If you, um. If you see Lance, tell him… Never mind.” 

He scowls, stalking out of the labs. How could he have thought that things were different? That he and Lance might actually be friends—or something more? Keith kicks open the door out of the labs in frustration. The sound echoes down the hallway as he leaves.

 

* * *

 

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, Lance, he’s gone,” Pidge mutters angrily.  “You mind telling us what’s going on?”

Lance emerges from the locker on the wall. He shrugs, playing with the strings on his jacket. “Nothing, nothing’s going on,” he says. “Just, ya know, stuff and things.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Hunk says, looking up from his schematic for a new part for Voltron. Now that they have a brand-spanking-new plan to destroy the kaiju once and for all, Hunk has been doubling down on his work. He won’t tell Lance what it is, but he’ll find out soon enough, he supposes. Hunk looks pointedly at him before he continues. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“Excuse you, I am a world class liar,” Lance protests.

“No, you’re not,” Pidge chimes in.

“No, you’re not,” Hunk repeats.

“Stop ganging up on me, it’s not fair!” Lance crosses his arms like a petulant child and pouts. “I just don’t want to hang out with Keith, that’s all.”

Pidge laughs in a short burst and rolls their eyes. “Please, Lance. You hang around him like a puppy,” they say, jotting down notes on a pad of paper next to them. “And now, suddenly, you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him? What gives?”

Lance is quiet, something he is often not. Lance uses words to cover up his feelings, his real emotions. But right now? He’s at a loss for words. How could he possibly begin to explain to his closest friends the thoughts running through his head right now?

He swallows nervously and scratches the back of his head. “The other night…” Lance begins. He doesn’t make eye contact with either of them. “The other night I had a dream… about Keith. We were, um, kissing.” Lance sighs. He slumps into a nearby chair, defeated. “I… I think I have feelings for Keith.”

“You think or you know?” Hunk asks kindly.

“I know I do,” Lance admits softly. “He’s… He’s just so — I don’t know. You wouldn’t guess it, but he’s got such a good sense of humor. And he cares so much about everyone and everything even if he doesn’t show it. He’s an idiot about it, but he’s brave and courageous and…” Lance buries his face in his hands. “And I’m so gone for him that it’s not even funny.”

Both Pidge and Hunk are quiet for a moment. Then Pidge says, “So you gonna do anything about it?”

Lance shoots up out of his chair in shock and looks at Pidge with wide eyes. “No! Absolutely not!” 

“Why not?” Hunk says. “Plenty of pilots sleep together.”

“Yeah, because they actually feel that way about each other!” Lance argues, beginning to pace back and forth, fingers running through his hair. “I can’t even kid myself into thinking Keith might feel that way about me! He’s… We’re… He doesn’t like me like that!”

Pidge and Hunk share a disbelieving look with each other.

“Look, guys, I’m not risking our newfound friendship or our awesome robot fighting skills just because I have a little crush on him,” Lance says.

“Won’t he find out anyway when you guys drift together?” Hunk asks.

“I know that!” Lance says, gripping his hair in his hands. “Why do you think I’ve been avoiding drifting with him? Or even being around him at all? Because he’s mucked around inside my brain! I can’t be  _ exposed _ .”

“Lance,” Pidge interjects. “Isn’t it better for him to hear it from you instead of him finding out about your wet dream in the drift? I think you should just tell him how you feel. I think it’ll go better than you think.”

“ _ Way _ better than you think,” Hunk mutters, looking back down at his blueprints.

Lance pauses his hair pulling to drag his hands down his face. “What if he punches me?” he asks with a pout.

“With his mouth on your mouth?” Hunk says under his breath.

“What?” Lance asks.

“Never mind.”

“He’s not gonna punch you,” Pidge says, directing Lance’s attention back to them. “Just… tell him.”

“All right, but if he punches me, I’m punching you.”

 

* * *

 

Veronica Castillo was a beautiful girl when she was eight, but she also became a beautiful woman. She and Lance grew up in the same school system, moving through elementary school and then onto high school.

In high school, she played on the soccer team and was nominated for Homecoming Queen when they were juniors (she didn’t win, but she wasn’t really the type of person who even cared about the nomination in the first place). She often wore her long dark brown hair in a ponytail and she exclusively wore a pair of dirty Chuck Taylors. She had a black Jansport backpack and on one of the zippers, she kept a Pink Power Ranger charm. She was effortlessly, gloriously beautiful.

(There was always some part of Lance that still loved her, still remembered the sparkly hair clips she used to wear and the Power Rangers lunch box she had. When she smiled, he remembered the grin she had at eight, her right front tooth missing.)

She was a beautiful girl. Past tense.

Lance was lucky to be alive after the attack. He only managed it by being out of the country. For a lot of other people, their luck had officially run out.

Veronica Castillo had lived two streets over from him in a blue and white house. She had a mom, a step-dad, two younger siblings, and a bearded dragon named Zeus. She was one of the only kids in school that had a pool in their backyard, which made her cool. Lance had been invited to a few of her summer pool parties.

Had. Was. Past tense.

That was when Lance learned that life is alarmingly fragile. That beautiful girl, with a good life ahead of her, was gone. Death doesn’t give two shits about who lives and who doesn’t. Death just does its job. It kills.

Even though Veronica Castillo’s rejection had scarred him, Lance is so glad he told her. He’s glad he was able to tell her what he felt for her, what she meant to him. He doesn’t regret a thing about it.

He thinks about Keith and his hair, his smile, his laugh. He doesn’t want to regret a thing about him, either.

He finds Keith in the exercise room, beating the shit out of a punching bag.

_ Don’t stare at his ass, don’t stare at his ass, don’t stare--too late, it’s beautiful. _

“Lance?” Keith says. He must’ve felt Lance’s eyes on him because he’s surprised before he gets angry. He’s wearing his hair in a ponytail. ( _ I hate it,  _ Lance thinks.  _ That’s a lie, I love it. _ ) “What are you doing here?” He sounds mad. He probably is mad. Lance has been actively avoiding him for like a week.

Lance puts his hands up in surrender. “Just checkin’ in on my awesome copilot.” He punches Keith in the arm like a bro ( _ not like a bro, he’s so muscle-y and delicious when he’s all sweaty) _ .

Keith squints at him. “Right,” Keith mutters. He grabs his water bottle and drinks from it. Lance watches the line of his throat as he drinks. He licks his lips nervously. Keith finishes and wipes his hand across his mouth. “Well, you checked in. Now you can check out like you’ve been for the past few days.”

“Hey, man, I can explain—”

“Can it, Lance,” Keith interrupts in a hard tone. “I don’t give a shit anymore. We’re not friends, I get it.”

“Keith, that’s not—”

“You know, I’d actually started to think we were getting along,” Keith continues. “That you’d gotten over that petty rivalry bullshit you’ve been spouting since we enlisted. That we were finally friends. But, apparently, I was wrong.” He scowls, refusing to make eye contact.

Lance steps toward Keith. Thankfully, Keith doesn’t move away. Lance hesitantly reaches out and puts his hand on his shoulder. For all the anger that Keith has been spitting out at Lance, it’s only hurt that he sees painted all over Keith’s face. He wants to kiss it away, but he doesn’t.

“Keith, I’m sorry, man,” Lance says, his voice wavering. “I just… I’ve been having a hard time lately with something that’s been on my mind—”

“With what, Lance? We’re partners, you can tell me,” Keith says, confusion written on his face. I would find out in the drift anyways.”

“That’s the problem, I didn’t want you to find out like that,” Lance says, rubbing his eyes.

He looks at Keith, who’s searching his face for an answer, imploring him for one, and Lance, in one of the rare times in his life (though not so rare lately), is at a loss for words. Everything is jumbled up in his brain and the only thing he really registers is that he’s close enough to Keith that he can see his individual eyelashes.

“I…” Lance begins. His eyes flicker down to Keith’s mouth and Keith’s eyes widen comically in realization.

The sound of the alarm makes them jump away from each other like they’ve been electrocuted. Lance feels his face heat up.

“J-jaeger,” Keith sputters out. He shakes his head, swallowing. “We gotta go, c’mon.” Keith grabs Lance’s arm and pulls him out of the room so that they can get ready to pilot Voltron.

Lance really, really hates his job sometimes.

 

* * *

 

The other technicians are suiting them up when Hunk walks over, fidgeting with his hands and looking a bit sick. Keith frowns, glance to Lance on his Left. Lance has been stealing small glances at him since they left the exercise room, thinking he wouldn’t notice,. Now, though, he focuses in on Hunk, worry lines etched into the corners of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Hunk?” Lance asks.

“What’s wrong? A lot of things. A new kaiju exited the Breach, it’s the strongest one we’ve seen yet, a category IV, you guys haven’t had time to test the new schematic I made for Voltron, Pidge still isn’t doing well—”

“ _ Hunk _ ,” Keith says. “Get to the point.” He hopes it doesn’t come out sounding too pushy or mean, but this is a kaiju they’re talking about. They need to  _ go _ .

“It’s headed towards Hawaii,” Hunk says finally, and  _ oh _ . Hunk’s family lives in Hawaii. Hunk’s girlfriend Shay lives in Hawaii. Hunk’s entire life before the PPDC was in Hawaii. Keith feels a spike of regret for his harsh tone, but quickly dismisses it. He looks over at Lance again and finds him staring back. 

This time, Lance doesn’t look away. They nod at each other once before turning back in unison to Hunk. It goes unsaid between them—the only way they can help Hunk now, help the entire  _ world _ now, is to go defeat that kaiju.

“Don’t worry, Hunk,” Lance says, voice surprisingly soothing. “We’re not going to let it get there. We’re going to protect your family.”

“Thank you,” Hunk says, then coughs, clearing his throat. He smiles weakly. “But listen, that’s not the real reason why I came up here. The schematic I mentioned—I finished it and had it installed in Voltron a few days ago. It might help you defeat the kaiju, but you need to be careful.”

“Why?” Keith asks, frowning. What could they possibly have added?

Hunk looks grim. “A sword.”

“A  _ sword _ ?” Lance all but yells. He gestures wildly, grinning despite the situation. “Why are you making that face about a  _ sword _ ? That’s awesome!”

“Well, yea, it would be awesome if we knew the sword worked, but like I said, you guys haven’t had a chance to use it yet. We have no idea what will happen when you do, if it’ll even deploy correctly, if it’ll hold up against a kaiju like we think it will—”

“Okay,” Keith says, “I take it the sword is a last resort then.”

“ _ Very _ last resort,” Hunk says as Lance boos in the background. “It’s dangerous for jaegers to fight up close and personal with a kaiju as it is. You guys got really lucky last time. This category IV—” Hunk pauses, swallowing thickly. “It’s different. Be careful.”

“We will,” Lance says, this time entirely serious when he looks confidently at Hunk. “You can trust us. We’re going to win, and we’re going to save your family.”

Keith feels a tight warmth in his chest, a pang of adoration that he’s sure is spilling out onto his face. He looks at Lance—looks at this ridiculous idiot, this  _ loyal  _ and  _ kind _ idiot who is here for all the right reasons—and his heart feels full.

_ I’m in love with him _ , Keith realizes with a start. And what a strange moment to realize that about a person, about yourself—in a pod with a half-dozen technicians, everyone moving quickly as they strap the two rangers into their suits, right about to go out and fight a kaiju, possibly to the death. Keith swallows.  _ I’m in love with him. I’m in love with him _ .

“Yo, Keithy boy, you still in there?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow and waving a hand in front of Keith’s eyes. Hunk and the other technicians have started to file out of the Conn-Pod, leaving just the two boys in the moments before the drift. Keith shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. There’s no time to be afraid of what Lance might see and feel when they enter the drift. His feelings for Lance will have to take a back seat while they fight the kaiju. He just hopes Lance keeps it together too.

“Yea, I’m here,” Keith responds. He gives Lance a thumbs up. “Ready when you are.”

The AI voice of the Conn-Pod voices the start of the drift sequence, and then they’re in.

 

* * *

 

Lance would not necessarily describe himself as calm. As someone who can  _ be _ calm when the situation calls for it, yes, but as a person in general? Not calm. He can be wild, a bit ridiculous, and prone to panicking under certain conditions. This is why it is no surprise to him whatsoever that, when he and Keith enter the drift and go immediately to his memory of dream-making out with Keith, he panics.

This is exactly what he thought would happen, and exactly why he’d avoided Keith in the first place. The drift opens up everything to your partner—it has to. That’s what being co-pilots means. So when the memory of the dream washes over them both, a striking haze of intensity amongst all other memories, thoughts, and feelings, Lance desperately tries not to let himself fall into a full-blown panic. Because he can feel love; he can feel warmth, tenderness, adoration, all rolled up into this one silly dream about Keith. He can feel his  _ own  _ love for Keith, and also something else. He feels confusion enter the drift too—Keith’s, he’s sure—but he quickly lets the memory filter by, lets them both come out of the drift, until they’re conscious of being back in the Conn-Pod, ready to fight.

“Lance?” Keith asks out loud, voicing his concern and confusion.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance says, wincing. He tries to laugh.  _ Laugh it off _ , Lance thinks, because that always works. “It’s nothing. Fight now, talk later.” He knows without looking that Keith is frowning hard, but ignores it. He can take his own advice, at least for now. Fight now, talk later. The kaiju is the priority.

As the Conn-Pod drops into place and Voltron moves out, Lance ignores his feelings and lets himself be perfectly in sync with Keith. What could go wrong?

 

* * *

 

Well, if you’re Lance, a lot of things. Lance is sweating heavily, breathing fast, and he knows Keith is doing the same. The kaiju is large and heavy-hitting. With every step Voltron takes, Lance feels exhaustion hit him more and more. The worst part is _they’re_ _not making any progress_. Every time they hit the kaiju, whether with their fists or their plasma cannons, it doesn’t leave a dent. It’s a dance, one in which the kaiju is leading. If Lance wasn’t panicking before from Keith drama, he certainly is now.

“Allura, nothing’s working,” he hears Keith say, probably in response to the surge of panic from Lance. For his part, Keith has kept strangely calm throughout the entire ordeal. It’s unusual for him, and Lance wonders what’s keeping him cool. They sidestep a blow from the kaiju, slow and lumbering, as it continues to dance around them, constantly redirecting.

“Keep at it,” Allura responds over the comm. Her voice sounds tight, as if she, too, is trying to keep her cool.

“That’s what we’ve been  _ doing _ ,” Keith says, and ah, there it is. A wave of frustration rolls through their connection, and Lance almost grins at the familiarity. Almost.

“Well, you’re going to have to keep—” Allura breaks off with a gasp. Then, multiple voices talkthrough the comm at once.

“Boys, listen,” Shiro says. Simultaneously, Coran shouts, “Kaiju Breach, another category IV!” But it is Allura’s voice that breaks through the clearest.

“Another kaiju just exited the Breach and is heading to Hawaii. Boys—it’s been leading you to Hawaii this entire time.”

The realization hits both of them at the same time, amidst the alarm of a second kaiju. They think of the countless misdirection maneuvers the first kaiju had pulled, the endless back-and-forth dance of the fight. They’d both assumed—they’d  _ all _ assumed—that the kaiju was just better at fighting, that maybe it was what a category IV kaiju was like. The world had never seen one before. 

But now, everything crashes down on them and becomes clear—it led them to Hawaii because its friend would be there. It had led them to Hawaii despite their attempts to lead it  _ away _ .

Lance feels a sharp spike of anger roll through the drift, and for the first time, he isn’t sure if it belongs to him or Keith.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Lance asks, shouting above the din of the Conn-Pod. This time, Shiro answers.

“We’re readying another jaeger to send out as we speak, but this second kaiju is faster. Altea won’t reach you in time. You need to take care of both of them until help arrives. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Keith mutters.

As they continue to fight, drawing closer and closer to the shores of Hawaii, a small thought forms in the back of Lance’s head. The last time they fought, they purposely drew the kaiju to land in order to make it slower. That isn’t the problem—both Voltron and the kaiju are slow, no surprise there. The problem is this kaiju can take a hit. And if the second category IV kaiju is at all similar, it’ll be able to take one as well. But, Lance thought, this time Voltron has something else on their side. Something they didn’t have with Haggar. So what if—

Keith hears the thoughts, hears the plan formulate in Lance’s mind, but doesn’t disagree. He nods.

_ I can do it, _ Keith thinks to Lance. A small grin forms on his face.  _ We both can. It’s dumb, but we can do it. _

Out loud, probably so Allura can hear, he says, “This was not my idea.”

“Really, man?” Lance says, voice shaking a bit as they begin to move Voltron toward the shore of Molokai. 

The last time he visited Hunk and his family, Hunk had said Molokai was the least populated of the Hawaiian Islands—that they’d be most easily evacuated if there was ever a kaiju attack near Hawaii. He hopes he’s remembering correctly, because that’s where they’re headed. That’s where this is going to end.

“This is a solid plan,” Lance continues. “At least a B plus if we’re going by a grading scale. Granted, there have been better plans, but this is a pretty good plan.”

“You’re an idiot,” Keith says, and Lance nearly chokes, nearly careens Voltron to a standstill, because he can feel the love that comes with it. It’s fondness and an adoration that warms him from the inside out. But he doesn’t get much time to think about it, because he hears the kaiju roar and then—

He hears another kaiju roar.

They turn Voltron, feet firmly planted on land, to look at the two creatures. The first kaiju drips bright blue blood where it walks, but the second is new and strong and angry.

“If you have any better plans, speak now or forever hold your peace!” Lance yells. 

No one says anything over the comm, so they either agree with their plan or are too busy readying the second jaeger to respond. Lance doesn’t care either way. They’re doing this. They have to—for Hunk, for his family, for the jaeger program—for the  _ world _ .

Keith says nothing, only thinks for Lance to stop Voltron. The kaiju are catching up to them and as the jaeger turns fully, Keith leaning forward in his pod, Lance can feel his partner’s anger, his exhaustion, and his determination to get the job done.

Keith hits a button, and the AI voice intones,  _ Sword deployment _ .

Lance looks over at Keith, who turns grimly toward him. “Ready, partner?” Lance asks.

“Ready.”

And then they strike.

Lance has never experienced anything like it. Not in any of the times he’s drifted before, any of the times he’s sparred with him—this, right here,  _ this _ is what it means to be in sync. To know everything that the other is thinking, to trust in it, to not even doubt their thoughts and movements. Lance feels alive. They turn Voltron with a practiced step and heave the sword around with them. 

It cuts through the first jaeger with a satisfying squelch, right through the neck tendons and all the way through to the other side. The kaiju’s head lolls off, falling fast and heavy to the green Hawaiian land. Voltron rights itself as the second kaiju screams. 

Lance and Keith share a single thought: the next one won’t be as easy.

It lunges for them, and Voltron doesn’t have enough time to bring up the sword to block the attack. Lance and Keith stumble, sweating and breathing hard as they work to keep their jaeger upright. They share another quick glance and nod.

_ Plasma cannon powering up _ , the AI voice intones. Lance readies the cannon with the left arm of Voltron while Keith tenses to utilize the right arm and its sword as soon as it’s freed. Angling the plasma cannon up and as much away from Voltron as he can, forcing it into the flesh of the kaiju, Lance fires.

The kaiju roars, its blood spilling everywhere. Not enough, Lance knows—they’d done the same with the first one. But the blast from the cannon  _ does  _ get the kaiju to reel back, stumbling a few steps away from Voltron.

That’s all the opening Keith needs.

Voltron moves forward. With a loud, vicious cry, Keith swings the sword out to the side and then back in, thrusting forward through the kaiju’s body.

“Lance!” Keith yells, but Lance is already on it, is already firing up the plasma cannon for a second round. 

The kaiju struggles on the sword, clawing to get off and clawing at the jaeger. With every pounding the Conn-Pod takes, Keith and Lance grit their teeth more. The pod shakes, beeping noises everywhere, but they’re so close, just a few more seconds—

“Now!” Keith shouts. Lance fires the plasma cannon right where their sword is, blue blood spraying everywhere and then—

The kaiju falls slack.

 

* * *

 

“We did it!” Lance shouts as the technicians unlock them from their spinal clamps. He’s never felt this relieved—never felt this on top of the world. They defeated two kaiju, they defeated them  _ together _ , they saved the world again and Lance feels like singing. Feels like dancing. They  _ did it. _

When Lance is finally free from the spinal clamp, he turns and rushes to Keith, wrapping him in a huge hug.

“We did it,” Lance says again, this time just for Keith. He both hears and feels Keith laugh, breathily, before the shorter man returns the hug.

When they break apart, Lance notices that Keith is smiling—full and wide, tiny laugh-lines around his eyes. 

Lance’s heart feels full. He feels the happiest he’s ever been, because he’s here with  _ Keith _ . Together. Lance feels unstoppable.

He closes the distance between them and kisses Keith.

It feels just like the dream—Real Keith feels the same as Dream Keith, responds the same way to Lance’s soft lips against his calloused ones. If Lance felt on top of the world before, then now he’s soaring through the galaxy. 

But then his brain catches up with his actions and he gasps, pulling away roughly from his copilot. They hear the sounds of people clamoring up to get to the cockpit and Lance pulls away from Keith like Keith had burned him. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—I mean, I shouldn’t have—I have to go—” Lance stumbles back, turns and runs away from Keith even as he shouts after him. Lance pushes past the people that are coming up to celebrate, leaving them (and Keith, he assumes from the look on his face) stunned and confused.

“Lance! Lance, where are you going?”

Lance walks and walks and walks until he’s back in his room, shaking. He sits down on the floor against his bed, head resting on his knees and hands threading through his short hair. 

Why did he do that? Why did he have to go and ruin everything they’d built between them by kissing Keith? Clearly Keith wasn’t interested like Lance was, right? But then again, it  _ had _ felt like Keith tried to return the kiss. Did he—did he feel the same? 

If he did before, he probably won’t anymore, not after that stunt Lance just pulled. Why was he like this? Why can’t he just calm down, just calm his thoughts about Keith? Why does Keith make him feel this way?

Lance’s entire being, thoughts and all, freezes when he hears a knock at his door.

“Who is it?” Lance calls hesitantly.

“I feel like if I say, you won’t let me in,” a voice responds. 

Keith. Lance bites his lip. Keith’s right—right now, he wants to send him away, but another part of him knows it won’t do any good. He can’t avoid Keith forever—not when they drift, not when they’re  _ partners _ . He can’t keep running forever.

“Come in,” Lance calls, swallowing thickly. “It’s open.”

Lance doesn’t look up as the door opens, only listens to Keith’s footsteps as he walks in, closes the door, and comes to sit down next to Lance on the floor. He feels Keith’s shoulder nudge his own.

“Hey,” Keith says. “Look at me.  _ Look _ at me.”

Lance wants to refuse but—no more running away. Not anymore. He lifts his head to look at Keith, and is almost overwhelmed by what he sees there. 

Keith isn’t angry or upset at all. There’s still a smile on his face, smaller than the one from before the kiss, and he’s looking at Lance with all the love in the world. 

Lance looks at him, slack-jawed. How? How is he not upset?

“Listen,” Keith starts again, and Lance thinks he’s trying to be nonchalant. “Can we try that thing from before again? I didn’t really get a chance to respond earlier.”

Lance’s brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. “You’re not—you’re not  _ mad _ ?” he asks, incredulous.

“Of course not. Why would I be mad?”

“Because—” Lance splutters, a blush growing across his cheeks. “Because—I mean, you saw that dream I had about you in the drift, you must’ve felt my feelings for you!” He swallows thickly. “How are you so calm about all of this?”

“Your dream?” Keith says, tilting his head to the side in confusion. God  _ damn, _ why is he so cute? “It wasn’t just your dream, it was ours. We ghost-drifted. I thought you knew?”

“We  _ WHAT?! _ ”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to blush and look awkward. “Wait, you’re telling me you didn’t know about the shared dream this  _ entire time _ ? But I’ve been—Lance, I’ve been trying to find you so we could talk about it. And then we drifted and I thought you knew because you were panicking about my feelings—”

“ _ Your _ feelings? I was panicking about my own feelings!”

Lance’s face feels like it’s literally been set on fire, and Keith, sitting stock-still next to him, looks about the same. Lance licks his lips and wills his heart to slow down.

“So…” Lance trails off. “You’re saying that you—you and I—we have the same feelings for each other. Um.”

Keith groans. “Lance, you’re an idiot.” But he moves his hand over to Lance’s and threads their fingers together. Keith looks him deep in the eyes, grey meeting blue. Lance feels lost in them, so lost that he almost misses what Keith says next. Almost.

“Lance, I’m in love with you.”

Lance laughs and it’s a breathy thing, full of relief and love and joy. Then he leans forward and captures Keith’s rough lips with his once more. His hand cups Keith’s face, angling it for better access as they kiss longer, deeper, far more so and far better than any dream.

“Lance,” Keith whispers against Lance’s lips, almost a laugh. Lance’s hands are tangled in his hair at this point; it’s incredibly distracting. “You didn’t really answer me. When I told you that I loved you.”

“Oh,” Lance breathes, smiling as he steals another kiss. “I’m in love with you too.”

They stay there, sharing kisses and smiles, never leaving and always touching

**Author's Note:**

> twitter handles:
> 
> kelley (ACertainKindOfMagic): [ @certainlymagic ](https://twitter.com/certainlymagic)  
> caitlin (catline): [@spacemadchen](https://twitter.com/spacemadchen)


End file.
